


All His Boyfriends are Dead

by BillieBunnie



Series: All and All [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: AU for Halloween, Alternate Universe, Blood and Injury, Curses, Death, Descriptions of rotten bodies, Each chapter is getting longer help me, Eventual Relationships, Goresworld, M/M, Mild Cursing, Mild Gore, Mild Necrophilia, Multi, Necromancer Tord, Necromancy, Polyamory, Polyworld - Freeform, Witchcraft, Zombies, as in they kiss and hug but are technically alive, au where it's a sad idea but the main character is gonna force a happy ending, but they're coming back, everyone has died but Tord my loves, originally submitted to whyareyoureyesblack, technically, this is not zombie smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:28:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieBunnie/pseuds/BillieBunnie
Summary: Tord has had a curse on him his entire life: Everyone he loves will die. It has taken everyone from him, seemingly the second he let his guard down. He has found each of his lovers dead by his curse, left alone time and time again. Tord has come to the end of his rope. He doesn't care if he goes to hell or ruins himself, so long as he gets them back. Every single one of them.





	1. Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Some gore-y dark love story for Halloween fanatics like myself! Be warned that these guys do die in this story, though it's glossed over the actual act, but there will be descriptions of decay, darlings! Enjoy!

Tord told every single one of them that he was cursed. It was a family curse after all, so Tord knew better than to hide it from anyone. 'Everyone that you love will die' sounds like the cheesiest, most idiotic curse to ever be placed on anyone, let alone an entire blood line. Unfortunately, it's more... effective than one might think.

Tord's family managed to survive until his birth by firstly having as many children as possible as soon as possible, and secondly by staying as distant from every one they possibly could. His great grandparents didn't marry for love, nor did his grandparents or his mother or father. It would've been travesty if they had.

Growing up in a cold, distant family was a means of protecting themselves and their blood line. Still, they died off.

Disease, car crashes, factory accidents, poisoned water, viper uncommon to their area hiding in a bedroom. It was impossible to ignore that it was a curse, not after so many unlikely lightning strikes or mysterious murders or unexplained strokes. The only bright side was that the curse didn't exactly hesitate. No slow painful deaths. The second love came, so did the end. Maybe a few months later, but it always destroyed within a year.

Tord's father was all that was left by the time he got old enough to be faced with the concern of 'falling in love'. He didn't love his father, and his father didn't love him, if they had they would've already been dead. Still they spoke and relied on each other like two strangers just trying to live. Tord didn't even call him father, just Sir.

The curse never had been a mystery in Tord's life. His mother had died in child birth years ago, and Tord's father had solemnly announced that he loved her in the same voice that some one would admit to murder. Tord's brother had killed himself before Tord was old enough to understand that the boy was even related to him. Every single pet Tord tried to keep didn't survive days or weeks, and never months.

So he stayed distant from kids his age. He didn't make friends, he followed the orders of his father that kept him cold and alive and clean handed from killing others with his curse.

Until high school.

He made friends with Edd. His first friend. Edd was sweet and funny and friendly. He had his eyes covered, but his smile had dimples. Tord tried stop Edd; he snapped at him and glared and outright ignored him. When that didn't work Tord just snarled that he didn't want to be friends. But Edd pushed, and shrugged as if everyone told him this. 

Tord didn't know why, but he found himself giving in. Edd made him laugh, Edd got him to joke and smile. Edd leaned on him, and touched his hands, and he gave Tord his first real hug.

Tord struggled to keep himself distant, and for a long time it worked. Though Edd tended to frown when Tord backed up from him, or he asked why Tord always shielded himself, Edd still stayed, and Tord was relieved. 

Edd kissed him, his first kiss, and Tord found himself sobbing in Edd's arms. He told Edd about the curse, he warned him. He told Edd that they needed to stay away from each other, that this was horrible and that Tord couldn't stand if he would be responsible for Edd's death. And Edd, like before, didn't seem to care.

And Tord stupidly took a plunge. They kissed, they dated. Maybe a month later, Edd died.

Gas leak, they said. Died in his sleep. No one else in his family did. They were lucky. Edd was not.

This is when Tord started looking into counter curses, cures, charms, ways to evade death, immortality.

Anything. Everything. 

He couldn't believe he had just killed his first love. He desperately didn't want to do it to his second.

His father told him it was pointless. Tord ignored him, like Edd would've.

But the curse did get his second love: Todd, about a year later. Todd was strong and nice and understanding. When Tord told him about the curse, Todd took him seriously, and offered to help him study more.

They dated for barely three months, but knew each other twice as long. Then Todd's head got cut off. A freak accident, happened while Todd was walking home from one of their study dates. A truck didn't secure the beams on the back of the truck. It could've happened to anyone, people reassured. But it didn't.

Along came Matt and Tom next, maybe a month later. Sweet guys, already dating each other. Matt was adorable and caring with bright blue eyes, and soft hands. Tom was cynical and funny and serious, but he always looked Tord in the eye and he listened. They cared. The three of them spent time on casual dates for coffee and to the library and to the movies. Tord stated his curse, and while skeptical, both Matt and Tom looked into what was happening. Tom let Tord cry into his chest about Edd and Todd. Matt made him sweets and kissed his head. He was comfortable.

Tom died first. Almost a year after they met, an air-conditioner unit fell from six stories up and landed on Tom's head and back. He passed from trauma within minutes. Tord held Matt when they found out hours later, and Matt admitted he was terrified but sobbed that he wouldn't leave Tord.

But he did. The very next day, Matt's car caught on fire. He burned alive, but it was announced that he died of fumes first. No one could explain what happened to his car.

Months later, Pat came into Tord's life. He had found Tord while Tord was sleeping on the grass outside of a library. They chatted, Pat gave him some water and asked how he was. Tord told Pat right then and there that he was cursed. Pat stared for a long minute before asking how much sleep he was getting. Through their conversation, Pat casually asked if Tord wanted help for research, and hopelessly Tord sighed and they went for coffee. 

Pat was a worrier of a person, very caring and supportive and intelligent. He didn't believe the curse, but comforted Tord and admitted that Tord was unlucky. Tord snapped that it wasn't unlucky for all five of his past lovers to die. Pat agreed, apologized, and petted Tord's hair until Tord dozed on his shoulder. Pat helped him sleep and relax, and four months later Pat got pushed off a balcony and splattered the pavement where they had first met.

The pusher was arrested, but Tord remained free to cry and study.

Pau was a librarian, and it seemed like fate when they kept running into each other. Pau asked about Pat, as he had seen them together, and Tord ended up storming off. Pau apologized the next day, admitting that he had known Pat as well. They bonded over their loss. Tord liked that Pau never tired of telling him it wasn't his fault. Pau was stable and warm, a terrible flirt with a sweating problem. He hummed to Tord when Tord's eyes got too tired to read pages, and he held Tord close like he too feared of losing this. Tord mentioned the curse, and while Pau didn't believe him, he never tried to convince Tord otherwise. A day before their first year mark of being together, Pau was shot during a convenience store robbery. Tord tried to repeat what Pau said all the time "It's not your fault" and it almost worked.

For almost two years, Tord was alone as he dragged on and on for answers.

A study into the occult led him to Mark, a college student studying the subject for his term paper. Mark was a bit of a know it all, and very teasing, but also helpful and very smart. He helped Tord with more details. He almost made it fun, like a game. He took Tord's claim of curse with a grain of salt but quickly agreed when he heard of all the people in Tord's past.

Mark was able to help him, much more effectively than any one else. He was the first to ask 'is the curse really so bad? at least you had them in the first place' and he became flustered and stammered when Tord became jagged. He showed Tord that saying sorry is easier than he thought.

Through Mark, he met Jon and Eduardo. Jon was sweet and shy, but nice and positive. Eduardo was ill-tempered at first, but Tord found out that he was also protective and kind, and strong. These two became constants like Mark to Tord, and he spent more days with them studying than he did relaxing. The three of them could overpower him when he argued to read instead of watch a movie, and they laughed and joked with Tord and made him forget why he was refusing. 

When learning about the curse, Jon made it his job to distract Tord from it as often as possible which led to games that Tord never played before, and Eduardo offered suggestions offhandedly, not sure how to help but Tord was flattered anyway.

The four of them were together for a little over year, but then Tord admitted that he loved them. That night, Tord went to get some midnight treats for them while they slept, and while he was gone, his house went up with a boom and a mountain of smoke. A gas leak ignited. Tord cried on the lawn when the police told him he was lucky he left when he did.

This is when Tord turned to a suggestion he had been looking into ever since Eduardo mentioned it around the time they first met: Necromancy.

No more hesitation. No more studying. No more waiting to get it perfect.

He was getting them back. All of them. This fucking curse couldn't keep a single one of them.

Within the month of his home and Mark, Jon, and Eduardo's funerals, Tord bought shovels, and herbs and candles, and a mountain of clothes.

He went to dig up the graves.


	2. Smog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edd's been dead the longest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully my descriptions of their bodies and the ritual don't bother anyone! If someone thinks I need to add more tags/warnings please let me know.

The digging was the worst part, Tord decided. 

Getting tons of clothes, first aid kits, and hammers and shovels without raising suspicion? Oh, he could've been buying a case of soda for all the attention he got.

Finding the grave in the middle of the night? A piece of cake. 

Seeing Edd's name on the grave stone, and knowing he'd be face to face with his remains? Oh sign Tord right up! That's why he came here after all! If he could just skip right to that point, Tord would!

But this? The digging? Kicking the spade into the settled ground and heaving large clumps of heavy dirt and grass and roots over his shoulder, and struggling to see with just a lantern in the cloudy night? Fuck. That. His shoulders and hands were aching before he even got two feet down, dirt clinging to the knees of his jeans and his knuckles and sweat poured down his face. This, this was literal hell.

By the time he hit the coffin with a solid thud, Tord's arms were burning and he decided that maybe he could just try and get the next few to burst out of the ground themselves like in those horror movies.  
Tord struggled to get the last of the dirt off of the coffin lid, wiping sweat with dirty, blistered hands. 

Prying it open was like a breath of fresh air, a relief. Even though the air coming from the coffin most certainly wasn't.

Tord wrinkled his nose at the smell of rot, but his eyes were focused on the corpse.

Seven or eight years seemed to work wonders for decay. Tord could see more bone than flesh, and whatever flesh he could see was molted and pale green. The black suit was worn and dusty and crumpled, and the way it sagged let Tord know that Edd's chest and stomach must've caved in during decomposition. Edd's face was still his, but only faintly. His jaw gaping, the skin sagging off his cheek bones and chin and neck. Black rotted liquid stained his teeth, for he no longer had lips or a nose.

Tord felt tears prick his eyes, and he let them fall and streak his dirt stained face as he leaped up on the edge of the hole he had dug. It was difficult for him to reach and he had to make a few swipes at the large duffle bag there until he was able to drag it into the hole with him.

He unzipped the bag and dug through the clattering stuffed objects, searching.

Taking out a large glass jar full of herbs and roots, Tord uncapped the lid and grabbed a handful. He crumpled some of the larger bits between his fingers and threw them over Edd's rotten body. Resealing the rest, Tord then scoured through his bag once again.

He pulled out a water bottle that was not full of water, and lightly poured some of the pink-brown liquid into Edd's gaping mouth. It trickled out the holes in Edd's cheeks, and bubbled in his throat. 

Before stumbling back over to his bag, Tord used the ring he was wearing (an iron band with a spike on the back, made from a coffin nail) to slice open the skin of the pad of his finger. Hand shaking, Tord waited until four drops of his own blood dripped onto Edd's rotting face before wrapping a torn cloth from his pocket around his bleeding digit. Then, Tord stuffed the water bottle into the bag and, groaning a bit, Tord shoved the whole thing out on the lip of the hole.

Climbing out was a chore, and Tord slipped a few times before he managed to haul himself out of the grave. Not bothering to stand, Tord crawled over to the book he left beside his backpack. Hissing in pain, Tord snatched the book from the ground and opened it to the page he bookmarked with a eulogy newspaper clipping, stating the death of three men in a house explosion.

He read through the steps and notes he had taken, counting them off and muttering how stupidly complicated is was to raise someone from the dead.

When he was sure he had done it right, Tord pulled out two heavy candles from the duffle bag and lit them before placing them on either side of him. He sat with crossed legs, pants and coat stained in dirt and grass, and placed the book in his lap.

Tord momentarily caught himself praying that this worked, then laughed at himself, because how satirical do you have to be to pray for something like this.

Tord shook off his laughter, took a deep breath to steady himself, and raised his hands out to either side of him, hovering above the flames of the candles. 

The words he chanted from the book rolled off his tongue almost without looking, the incantation rumbling out of his chest and into the cool night air. Unlike in movies, the wind didn't pick up, the outside didn't get any darker or colder. But Tord could tell something was happening. The words that gasped into the air from his lips made his mouth feel ticklish, the roof of his mouth itching. A chill went down his spine, the back of his hands (still about a foot away from the flames of the candles) heating up as if they were on fire. His eyes stung like he had something stuck under the lids, and the irises of his eyes brightened until they glowed. Tears slipped down his face and they stung like nails scratching down his cheeks, but Tord didn't stop chanting.

Everything felt lighter, fainter, like his clothes and the book in his lap weren't touching him. He couldn't feel the ground under him. But he didn't stop.

The last word left him breathless in a way that felt like hitting a floor on your back, and his vision flickered, one eye showing white and the other showing black. Somehow, Tord managed to keep his body still, in the same position as always, even though he was struggling to breathe.

Then nothing happened.

Breathing hard and blinking spots from his still gleaming eyes, Tord dropped his hands into his lap, listening closely.

Tears dripped from his eyes and onto the book, onto his hands, and Tord didn't hear anything.  
Just when Tord was looking back at the book, wondering what he messed up on, he heard a heaving gasp, so sharp and hallow that it reminded him of a death rattle.

Tord's head snapped up, startled, and saw a skeletal hand claw at the lip of the grave. A second hand came up, stabbing into the ground with bone finger tips. It was hard to tell if it was flesh or the suit that was hanging off the arms.

Hitching gasps filled the air, like someone being crushed under weight. With a definite scrape of shoes slipping on the messy sides of the grave, the corpse climbed from the grave with sharp, messy movements. It's head bowed, Tord could only see wispy thin hair, long and crisp like leaves.

Tord forgot the book as he moved forward into a crawl. He couldn't even feel the sting of his hand or the soreness of his legs or the dizziness, coming just short of the corpse that paused just as it's legs found ground.

Tord reached a hand up, but the corpse suddenly let out heaving gasps, deep and heavy like someone who had been held under water. Then, he coughed, a very dry sound, and water splattered the ground in front of Tord's knees. A harsh coughing fit followed, all air and a few clicks.

"Edd?" Tord asked, voice shaking with a sticky tongue.

The corpse jumped, and the head shot up, mangled face just inches from Tord's.

The entire lower half of his face was mainly bone, with some old flesh clinging on in streaks like ribbons. His eye sockets were empty and were a pit green, a thin oily black leaking from them like tears. His hair was thin and stuck oddly over his face. There was a slight tightening around his eye sockets, on the skin that still covered his temples, like he was squinting.

"Tord?" The corpse rasped in a voice that Tord remembered, although it was scratchy and very raw. Before Tord could answer, Edd seemed to wince, a hand going to where a majority of his neck had decomposed, "Ugh, my throat."

Tord instantly scrambled over to his duffle bag, where he took out the same water bottle from before. He held it out for Edd to take.

"Right. Here, this should help."

Edd probably couldn't see all that well considering that he didn't even question what was in the bottle before he unscrewed it. He brought it to his teeth (he had no lips), and let the 'water' pour into his mangled jaw. It seeped out the partings in his flesh, and splattered down through his jaw onto his decayed throat, where it instantly absorbed into the rotten flesh. The front of his suit was wet, but Edd didn't seem to notice.

"Thanks..." Edd announced in a slightly less pained sounding tone, though his voice was still a bit raw.

Tord watched the way Edd's teeth parted as he spoke.

"How do you feel?"

"A bit sick. Really tired. My whole body feels sore. Uh, where are we?" Edd spoke lowly, looking around, water bottle forgotten as Edd sat up straighter.

"Graveyard," Tord answered, looking straight in the sockets that once held evergreen eyes, "What do you remember?"

Surprise colored Edd's tone when he repeated, "Graveyard??"

"What do you remember?" Tord asked again, expression sincere, and Edd stopped trying to look around. The way he tilted his head let Tord know that Edd was concerned.

"I remember... going to sleep?"

"... That's all?"

"I mean, yeah? It was after we went to the movies together, and I just went home and went to bed. That's it."

Tord felt more tears slip down his cheek, unsure if he was relieved or upset.

"Tord, why are you crying," Edd sounded worried, and Tord was startled by cold fingers touching the side of his face, "What happened? Why are we here?"

"You... kind of. Died," Tord admitted, and flashed a nervous smile.

Edd's remaining skin slackened, in surprise or disbelief.

"I- what?"

"You died. In your sleep. Eight years ago."

"Eight years?! What are you talking about?!" Edd drew his hand back, seeming to understand that Tord wasn't joking. Then Edd noticed that his hand had much less flesh than he probably recalled. Tord looked away as Edd let out a hitched gasp, staring at the bone and only ribbons of dried flesh coiled over stained bone.

Edd brought up his other hand, staring at bare bone along his fingers and molted flesh spider webbing the center of his palms and up the inside of his arms. He kept repeating 'what the-??' as he discovered new changes.

"Like I told you, my curse will kill everyone I love. It got you eight years ago, and I've been trying to figure out how to fix it ever since! I tried cures or something to counter it. I got charms and did rituals and got protective tattoos," Tord pulled up one of his sleeves and showed off black ink scrawling up and down the back of his arm. Edd stared at them, and Tord sagged, looking ashamed, "But it never worked. None of it did. The curse still effected everyone else I came across. It's taken all of you from me. But I found a loophole, and I can get you guys back, all of you! I had to turn to basically cursed magic, and that's probably going to ruin my soul, but I'm getting you all back. And the curse can't take any of away from me again! Because you're already dead!"

Tears were freely streaking Tord's cheeks, his words frantic and desperate sounding. He ended up breathing shakily as Edd absorbed his words.

Edd looked from him to his own dead hands, his teeth making a clicking noise when he winced at the exposed tendons.

"Okay."

Tord stopped. "W-what?"

Edd met his eyes, his own empty eye sockets still streaming oily black. "I said 'okay'. I understand. It's fine."

"R- really?! You're not mad and you don't think I'm crazy or-"

Edd's hands came up and fell on Tord's shoulders, stilling him.

He had a light laugh in his words when he spoke, and the way his cheeks moved let Tord know that Edd was smiling.

"Tord. You just brought me back from the dead, I'm not mad. A little freaked out, but I guess I should be flattered."

"Flattered?"

"You're curse only affects those you love, right? Guess that means you really did love me back, even if you didn't say it to my face," Edd grinned, and Tord was a bit startled that the exposed teeth and thin flesh didn't hinder the slight throb in Tord's heart. "Not to mention that I've been dead for, what? Eight years? And you still came back for me."

Tord reached out and pulled Edd to him, burying his face in the dirty shoulder of Edd's dusty suit. When he hugged, his arms sunk in around Edd's middle that would be gross if it was anyone else. The smell bothered Tord little. Edd let out a noise in surprise, but then he closed his mangled arms around Tord's back.

"I can't believe how much I've missed you."

Edd laughed, "You've gotten sappy since I was alive, huh?"

"I can afford to be sappy now. You're safe."

For a moment, they held each other, and just spoke in quiet tones.

"I can't believe you let my parents bury me in this suit."

"I didn't have much of a say. Besides, suits are expected when you're buried."

"Yeah, I know, but this suit has a bow tie. A bow tie, Tord. I look like a freakin puppet boy."

"You do not look like a puppet boy."

"That's only because I probably look like an apocalyptic nightmare."

"Would you rather look like a puppet boy?"

"No, but you get my point."

Tord leaned up and kissed Edd where his lips used to be. Now, his lips met teeth and thin dry flesh. Edd let out a startled noise.

"Okay, we have to get going. I have eight other graves to dig up."

"Did you just kiss me? Even though I don't have lips? I think I don't have lips- I mean I can't feel them." Edd looked up as Tord stood, gathering things and shoving them into the bags. "Wait, eight other graves?"

Tord paused a moment, picking up his backpack and unzipping it. He made a point not to look at Edd. 

"I'm going to revive all of those I killed with my curse."

"You mean, other people you fell in love with? While I was dead?"

"Yes," Tord drew out the word, looking shy as he withdrew a jacket, "I was planning on getting all of you back, and I just know that all of you would get along together. Perhaps you'll even love each other, given time."

Edd crossed his nearly bone arms.

"You revived me so that you could set me up with other zombie guys?"

Tord held out a bundle of messily folded clothes.

"No. I revived you so that I could get you back. The possibility of dating my other dead lovers is a plus," Tord offered, trying to look confidant. Edd didn't take the clothes.

"Are they hot?"

"They were the last time I saw them alive. Now they might be more on the horror side of attractive, but I personally don't see a problem with it. If you like, I'll gladly tell you all about them on the way to the next grave."

Edd wiped oily tears from his eye sockets, and let out a surprisingly amused sounding chuckle. He took the offered clothes.

"Well, it beats being dead."

As Edd got changed out of his ruined suit, Tord picked up his supplies. They left the grave open, and Edd mused that he should take his headstone with them. Tord told him no, but he was laughing.

The pants Tord brought didn't fit at all on Edd, considering that a large portion of his flesh and organs had been eaten away by decay, but the hoodie Tord brought was plenty large enough to reach down to Edd's flesh spotted thighs. His legs were well decayed, large portions of bone reveled under wrapper thin green molted bloated flesh. Edd made a joke about him being on a diet, and Tord commented that he'd look into finding something to help with his lack of skin and muscle.

They left the graveyard, leaving only an empty grave and an empty suit. Edd helped Tord carry some of his things, surprisingly still pretty strong without much of his muscles. Before they left, Tord tied a bandanna over the missing flesh on Edd's exposed jaw and teeth. With that most obvious detail hidden, Edd could probably pass as normal at first glance or far away. Though his green pit eyes, still leaking black, were a dead give away, which Edd pointed out and Tord laughed and kissed him over the bandanna.


	3. Hesitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Todd. Once piece at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Todd is mainly based off whyareyoureyesblack's Todd, in case you were wondering what his base is haha. 
> 
> Warning, there is zombie smooching in this (non-descriptive) and most following chapters. Also, yes, Edd is the one that I'm gonna make good at sewing, and no he's still not wearing pants. Dude's got mainly bone legs, he don't need any pants. Let him live- er, die I guess.

Todd was their first stop. His grave was across town, but Tord spent the time telling Edd stories. About Todd, about his other loves. About his search. About how much he missed Edd. Edd listened and laughed, his voice making Tord smile each time he heard it. At every stop light, Tord would reach out to clasp one of Edd’s hands, not caring that it was mainly cold bone, and spongy crinkle paper like flesh. Edd called him weird, and joked and squeezed his hand, and it was like no time had passed.

Once at the graveyard, Tord led the way down the walk, carrying his backpack (filled with more clothes he took from the car), and Edd walked beside him, rotting legs pale in the dim light of the night. Finding the grave was easy, Tord had scoped it out several times before hand. The digging was yet another pain, but Edd offered to switch out with him in shifts. Which made it easier. 

“So, this Todd is the one that’s missing his head?” Edd asked casually, perched at the edge of the grave that Tord dug into.

“It’s not missing. But, yes, it got cut off.”

“Jeez, your curse doesn’t fuck around.”

“Neither do I,” Tord launched another spadeful of heavy packed dirt. He heard Edd laugh.

“Nope. You never have.” Tord could hear a fond note in Edd’s voice, but he kept digging.

When Tord pulled open the coffin, Edd was the one that let out a hissing noise of air being sucked through his teeth.

Todd’s body wasn’t in much better shape than Edd’s, though he seemed to have more flesh left on his face. His lips had retreated back from his teeth, but it was only on one side of his mouth that the flesh had thinned and molted down to show into his gaping jaw. His skin was paper thin, and more red than green. His neck was the most obvious, the head rolled back from the body, with the throat and 7 year old stitches being rotted apart to show a gooey neck. The smell wasn’t much better than Edd’s either.

Tord decided that he was going to sew back on the head before reviving Todd, and Edd casually fetched a kit from the bag. Tord pulled out a large needle and a spool of thicker thread. As he threaded the needle, Edd dropped down into the grave with a light groan. He helped hold Todd’s head in the right angle as Tord sewed the remaining molten flesh back together. When his hands shook, Edd ended up taking over to make sure the lines were at least straight. 

“This is gonna be really obvious,” Edd noted casually, and Tord grunted.

“As long as it holds his head on, then I will find a solution to the superficial stuff. I already know how to keep your bodies from falling apart further, I just will figure out a way to reverse it a bit or invest in some scarves or something.”

“Maybe you can get my lips back. That would be pretty cool.”

“I already know what you’re thinking, and unfortunately, it can wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, revive zombie boyfriends now, romance later.”

Once Edd finished sewing the head into place, he made sure that it wouldn’t just snap and gave Tord a skeletal thumbs up. Then Edd climbed out of the grave, and made a job of handing Tord the things he needed; herbs, and flowers, and a not water filled water bottle. He then watched with black leaking eyes as Tord slit open yet another one of his fingers and dipped blood onto Todd’s face. Edd leaned down and helped Tord up, none of his skin peeling away. 

Tord set up the candles, the book, and started the last of the ritual. Edd was watching from where he was leaning against a grave stone behind Tord, hands in his pockets. Faintness, chills. White and black clouding his vision as Tord’s gleamed. The second Tord stopped chanting, Tord panting slightly, there was a near scream that sounded garbled and caked in dust.

“That’s gonna freak out the neighbors,” Edd announced as Tord scrambled up from sitting and rushed over to the grave. Once at the edge, he dropped to his knees and saw that Todd’s body was sitting upright, dead hands touching the stitching at his throat.

“Todd!” Tord called out, and the corpse’s head shot up, and Tord was sure he saw Todd wince. Wide dark sockets stared up at Tord, giving him the impression of doll eyes. His hair was loose, unlike how he always wore it when he was alive, so it reached his sagging shoulders like spider webs.

“T… Tord? Is that you?” Todd’s voice was a croak, almost like he had been crying instead of being dead. 

Tord smiled, “Yes!”

Todd was already pushing himself up, bones creaking, stiff suit catching and tearing at the bed of his coffin. He stumbled out of his coffin and to the edge of the hole, hands reaching up for Tord. Tord didn’t even hesitate, grabbing Todd’s hands in his, feeling cold bone and peeled back icy flesh under his warm hands. He guided them up to his mouth and kissed the bare bone of Todd’s fingertips.

“What happened? Where are we,” Todd asked slowly, “All I remember is walking home, and then this truck, like, skipped the sidewalk and this big beam flew off the back and was about to hit me… I thought I was dead!”

“You did! My curse- I told you.” Tord trailed off almost desperately, as if he dreaded to fill in the blanks, and Todd flinched back in surprise.

“What? Your curse- the one that kills-?” 

This is when Todd seemed to notice that his hands were wrong, pulling one hand free and watching in fixated shock as he flexed his dead hand. He held his hand so close that his finger brushed his own face, where is nose no longer was. He felt along his cheeks, stalling on the exposed holes in his cheeks and the bone sticking out under his eye. He let out a ground out groan, and Tord grabbed for the water bottle. 

“Drink this. It should help.” When Todd hesitated, Tord added a soft, “Please.” 

Todd took the bottle with a quaking hand. He moved slowly as he uncapped it and drank the liquid down, the pink streaming down his throat and seeping at the thread at his neck. It absorbed into his deteriorated flesh like a sponge. Then he screwed the empty bottle shut and just stared at it in his hand.

“What did that do?” His voice was smoother now, surprisingly so, though it had a slight clack when his teeth touched.

“It’s sort of… a potion? Yes, you could call it that. It’s meant to keep your form stable, so that it doesn’t fall into just remains. Essentially stops the rotting process.” 

Todd looked up from the water bottle, into Tord’s eyes. “And what did you do?”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a question, like a follow up to ‘what was the weather this week’.

Tord found himself a bit breathless, so he spoke haltingly, “I brought you back to life. It’s been a few years since you died, but I finally found a way to stop myself from losing any of you.”

Todd lightly shook his head before wincing and touching at his neck, where the stitches strained against red-gray flesh.

“You… brought me… back from the dead.” Not a question, Todd spoke every word choppily as if he was trying to understand. 

“Are the stitches too tight? I’m sorry, we had to make sure your head was attached when I said the spell so as to not have any mistakes. I’m afraid I didn’t have much practice with sewing, and Edd’s hands are still a little, er, new? He’s getting used to them,” Tord explained.

There was a sound of steps as Edd approached the grave, stopping just behind Tord. “Hey, give me some credit. This is the first time I’ve sewed someone’s head back on. Besides, you didn’t have the right thread. Even I know you can’t just use the same stuff you use for a teddy bear.” 

Tord glanced over his shoulder and remarked, “We can fix it later, once we get everyone else.”

Todd was staring up at Edd, and his mouth opened a bit as he seemed to think of what to say.

“Edd… as in, your dead boyfriend?”

“Hey, he knows me! That saves on introductions. Dead boyfriend #1 at your service,” Edd laughed, and lightly pulled down the bandanna to show off his black leaking eyes and molted flesh on his cheeks over stained bones. 

Todd let out an audible gasp, skeletal hands flying up to cover his mouth, touching the thinned skin.

“Do I look like that?”

Edd pulled back up the bandanna to hide his exposed jaw as Tord lightly waved his hand in dismissal.

“Dead boyfriend #2 is rude. Let’s get the next one.”

“You’re technically not as far along in decomposition as Edd is. But, regardless, I think you both look fine considering the situation. And, Edd, he’s not rude, he’s just surprised. Give him time.”

“You’re just, reviving your boyfriends,” Todd pondered aloud, like asking ‘why’ without saying it.

Tord bit his lip, reaching his hands out to Todd again, this time more imploring. His eyes were damp.

“I’m reviving all I’ve killed with my curse. I’ve tried just moving on, finding some way to just accept the blood on my hands, but I just. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to face the decision of solitude or murder again, not after all these times. This is the only solution I could find, one that wouldn’t end with more death.” 

Todd frowned, seeming to think over Tord’s words carefully. His eye sockets never left Tord’s face. A light wind twitching his hair like kite strings.

“I… It’s okay,” Todd’s voice came out gentle, one of his rotten hands coming up to brush a few tears from Tord’s filthy cheek. He seemed to stare at the bone and stripping flesh on his fingers held against the backdrop of Tord’s alive skin, “This is beyond disturbing. But, I guess, so is your curse. I never wanted you to be alone, even if something happened to me. And, I suppose with zombies for friends, your curse can’t exactly kill them…”

Tord beamed, nearly throwing himself into the grave to curl his arms around Todd’s shoulders, and pressing his lips against Todd’s paper thin, wilting lips and teeth. Edd caught the back of Tord’s jacket, preventing him from falling into the hole, biting out a curse in surprise.

Todd’s rotting hands reached to catch Tord’s sides, and when Tord pulled back with a wide grin, he announced, “Exactly! Those were my thoughts exactly! I knew you would’ve thought the same! You were always so quick to understand me!”

Todd let out a surprised, flustered sounding noise. “I-I. Ha- Wouldn’t have come to the same conclusion, but-”

Tord kissed him again, and Edd sighed into the air, still hanging onto a dangling Tord.

“God, he’s way more kiss-happy than I remember.” 

“You’re telling me,” Todd commented, a laugh in his voice as Tord hugged him, “Someone else must’ve made him this cuddly, because he was like a rabbit when we were together.”

“It was the same for me, but more like a raccoon than a rabbit. Kinda mean. But I’m totally giving whoever did this a high five.”

“You all made me this way, every single one of you. That’s why I’m getting you back.” Tord stated firmly.

“Alright, enough flattery, let go of Todd so I can pull you up before you break your nose. We still have seven more to go.” 

“Seven?” Todd helped ease Tord off him, and Edd yanked Tord back.

“Yup, seven more guys that Tord fell in love with after us,” Edd casually explained, and patted a hand of bare bones in Tord’s messy hair, “We’re gonna see if we can work out a pie chart of chores and move into one big house together. It’ll be like the Brady Bunch.”

Tord snorted, “More like the Addams Family.”

Edd laughed, a dry sound, and he turned around to start gathering Tord’s things. Todd stared up at them, looking confused.

“I can’t tell, is he joking?”

“Ah, Edd’s just making light of the situation. You’ll grow to love his odd humor after some time,” Tord offered with a fond smile, reaching back into the grave to help Todd out. Todd’s peeling hands curled along Tord’s wrists, his pit eyes staring at Tord’s alive skin against his dead flesh.

“We’ll see…” 

The flesh on Todd’s hand tore as Tord tugged him up, and Todd winced, about to yank away, but Tord kissed his knuckles. Todd muttered about that being incredibly unsanitary, and Tord just rolled his eyes. His clothing Tord picked out fit him better than Edd’s had, so he was able to wear the dark pants and the red jacket well enough, although he could tie it very small at the waist in a way that looked a bit too unnatural. 

Tord helped tie his loose thin hair into a ponytail, eyeing the stitches in Todd’s neck. They were a bit messy and very easily seen, but if Todd put up his hood, it could almost come off as a tattoo from afar. His dim pit eyes, red in light, were a little too obvious but Tord mentioned buying sunglasses, which Edd called out in agreement for while hefting up a shovel over his shoulder. Todd glanced down at his hands and self consciously shoved them in his pockets, but he couldn’t help brushing shoulders with Tord as the three of them made their way down the hill.


	4. Knuckle Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's not exactly chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Body decay is fun to write <3

The trip to Tom's grave was interesting to say the least. At first, Todd was reclusive, sort of curled in on himself in the passenger seat. Tord caught him looking at his spotty hands and rawboned skin in passing street lights. 

Edd was the one that tried to break the silence, randomly spouting a story of him and Tord getting chased across someone's lawn in the middle of the night. Todd looked at him in the rear-view mirror as Tord laughed, surprised Edd remembered such a small moment. It seemed just the right thing to say, a mutual icebreaker with cloth tied around his fingers as he drove, and before Tord knew it, Edd and Todd were swapping stories about times Tord did something stupid or cute. 

It turned into a bit of a double teamed teasing, where Edd accused Tord of acting like a moron on purpose, and Todd laughing aloud, declaring that Tord was terrible at lying and thus he must naturally be a complete idiot. Tord let out a scoff, throwing a somewhat offended look towards Todd, but he was surprised out of his mock scolding by Todd actually reaching out to brush some of Tord’s hair from his eyes.

While Tord's heart fluttered, Todd and Edd delved into a conversation about the number of times they tried to get Tord to cut his hair. Tord’s eyes stayed on the road, but he could still feel the brush of Todd’s fingers against his skin. Even without the warmth and the skin, it was a touch that Tord found himself relieved to have again.

By the time they arrived, there was a possibility in the air of dragging Tord into a salon after they were done grave robbing. Tord declared that they could hold a vote for it once they got everyone else, but that just made Edd laugh under his bandanna and lightly nudge Todd with his shoulder.

"It is not going to be hard to get them on our side," Edd announced cheerfully, leading the way to the gate and pushing it open with a skeletal hand. Todd snickered, and even Tord found himself smiling as he led them into yet another familiar graveyard that he knew from many visits.

Tord ended up taking more breaks when digging, his hand cramping and sliced finger tips still stinging. Edd was casual when he took the shovel from Tord, though he commented that he wasn’t wearing the correct kind of clothes to be grave digging. Todd stood beside Tord, though his attention drifted from asking about Edd’s exposed legs and molted green flesh to the headstone. He asked about Tom.

The sound of the spade stabbing into the ground was kept company with stories of Tom and Matt. Tord mentioned the times he had gotten distracted from his curse by the two of them, always seemingly without a word. They were understanding, and fun. Tom, although cynical, was kind deep down and incredibly sweet, though he never liked to talk about it much. He would off offhandedly mention things that he thought Tord would love, such as sales of a certain book or that he would be bringing Tord lunch. Tom used to give him drinks, and slip jackets on Tord’s shoulders without saying a word. He used to know the exact words to say that Tord couldn’t, and he seemed to say them without speaking. 

“Tom always seemed to notice every little detail about me. Even if I was trying to hide things from him and Matt. He would see right through me, and just give me this stare- He had such dark eyes. It was like looking into space.” Tord let out a deep sigh, wiping sweat from his chin. With a huff, he heaved another spadeful of dirt out of the hole. It landed next to Todd’s foot.

Todd stared down at him under his hood, before commenting, “He sounds… different.” 

“Your tastes are all over the board,” Edd added with a huff of a chuckle, and Todd threw a look at him. Edd was busy digging through Tord’s bag, pulling out jars and bottles and staring at them in the lantern light. He shook one or two before putting them back down.

“They sure are,” Todd agreed idly. Just then, a solid thud rang in the air and Tord laughed.

Todd helped Tord clear the last of the dirt, but flinched back behind Tord when he wretched open the coffin lid. 

Tom’s body was thin and rotten inside his sagging suit. He seemed to mainly still have skin, though it was spotty, like specific parts of him decided to rot faster. Along his chin and his neck, leading up the back of his head, which was lolled to the side, the skin had split away to show nearly black muscle decomposing and dripping into the bed of his coffin like sweat. The shade of his skin was a slugged gray, and he still had lips although they were incredibly thin. His eyes, the ones that used to look like space, still had lids over them. Tord stared at him for a long moment, not moving.

“Hey, Tord, you gonna bring him back or just keep staring? We can leave you alone with the corpse if you want a minute.” Edd called, both making Todd jump and Tord snap out of his daze.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Can you hand me the jar? The ones with the roots?”

Edd tossed the jar to Todd, who was determined not to look back at the coffin as he handed the jar to Tord. As Tord uncapped the jar and set about spreading the herbs around Tom’s body, Todd backed up against the edge of the hole, rotting hands worrying over themselves. Once Tord was done, and Edd threw him a water bottle of pink, Edd tapped Todd’s shoulder and offered his bone exposed hand. With a grateful sigh, Todd took Edd’s hand and let him help him out of the grave. 

When Tord slit open a third finger tip, and let drops of dark red dot Tom’s cheek and head, Todd made a sharp noise.

“Do you have to do that?” 

Tord wrapped up his newly injured finger with another cloth, making a thoughtful hum that was only slightly pitched with pain.

“Yes. The ritual requires blood from the summoner.”

“Okay, that makes sense, but why can’t you just use the other cuts you have,” Edd asked, as Todd reached down to help Tord out of the grave.

“Because it has to be fresh, dark blood. And the other cuts have been open too long and it’s technically tainted. So, it wouldn’t work,” Tord explained, a grunt to his words as he climbed from the hole. 

Tord set up the last of the ritual, pulling out the candles and book. Edd sat down atop a headstone just behind Tord, his bare rotting legs surreal against the stone, just a bit too green to match in paleness. Todd stood next to Edd, watching Tord with a sort of fixed concerned stare, looking like he might want to step in at any second. But he didn’t.

Tord lit his candles, and sat between them. With his hands hovering just above the flames, Tord started the chant. Like before, the words itched his mouth and stung his tongue. His hands burned, his fingers ached and throbbed in time with his heart. With a vision flickering in and out, Tord didn’t really notice himself faltering slightly, but he didn’t stop the chant. 

Todd was by his side the second Tord dropped his hands into his lap with a heaving breath, but was unable to say anything before a sudden loud shuddering gasp entered the air along with a tearing sound. Tord rushed over to the grave, stumbling a bit before he fell to his knees at the edge. 

“Careful!” Todd warned, but Tord only had eyes on the grave, on the person sitting up in the coffin.

“Thomas!”

Unlike Todd and Edd, Tom did not jerk upright when Tord called to him. Instead, he slowly raised his head until black gaping sockets locked on him. The skin around his eyes seemed to be torn back slightly, even his eyelids seemingly ripped like tissue paper above where his eyes used to be. His hair was drooped, thin spikes hanging into his eyes like it used to only when it was wet. Black leaked down his neck where his suit jacket fell back.

For a long moment, Tom stared at him, the sickly skin around his eyes tensed making him look unsure.

“What hit me?” Tom spoke with a dry, graveled voice like he had gargled rocks. 

A bit taken aback, Tord hesitated a moment before answering, “An air-conditioner. It fell from the sixth floor of an apartment downtown. Did- do you remember it?”

Tom’s hand, thinner than Tord ever seen, reached up and touched along the molting skin on his neck. The muscle he touched oozed under his fingers, but the hand roamed further up to the nape of his neck and the back of his head, where it stayed for a long minute. Tom’s thin lips fell into a sharp frown, just the tension in his jaw causing more of the skin to split along his chin.

“Yeah, I remember it.” Tom looked down at his hand, and noted the black oily liquid coating his fingers and staining the spotty skin their with dark ink like smears. The hand curled into a fist, and he looked back up at Tord. “You brought me back? Pulled some witch shit?”

Tord nodded and gestured for Tom to come towards him. Tom slowly pushed into standing as Tord spoke. He moved a bit sloppily, his feet tripping on the case, and a slight slouch to his posture.

“Yes. I hate to say that it took me a few years to decide to do it. But I’m finally bringing back all those taken from me. Matt’s next,” Tord stated, reaching out his hands to Tom. Tom’s hands were icy cold and surprisingly stiff under Tord’s fingers, though the skin felt unnervingly taunt.

The second Tom was before him, Tord made to put his arms around Tom’s neck. But he didn’t even get close.

Tom’s bones creaked when his fist connected with Tord’s cheek, knocking Tord onto his back with a yelp of pain. Tord held onto his burning, stinging cheek and felt the same black liquid smearing his skin as the kind on Tom’s open flesh. Before Tord or the startled Todd or Edd could do anything, Tom pointed an accusing finger at Tord, skin around his eye sockets furrowed into a glare.

“You’ve done something really fucked, Tord. I didn’t think you would stoop this low.” Tom nearly spat, but his voice was so dry. Tord blinked tears.

“I. Wha- What?” 

“Waking up the dead. Reviving people who were planted in the fucking ground. Fucking with the natural cycle of life. Spitting in the face of death. Any of this ringing a fucked bell for you?! Apparently not, considering that I’m fucking asking you that question, huh?!” 

“Wait, you don’t understand-” Tord tried, but Tom interrupted him, shoving to his feet with odd dry scraping noises.

“I understand that you just dug up and desecrated a fucking grave. You brought me back to life, something that someone who’s fucking died should never do! There’s tons of horror movies about this very scenario! You know, ones where karma comes right back around and ruins whoever decided to fuck with mortality? I know you’ve seen them, Tord, we watched them together. So you have no fucking excuse to think this was even remotely okay,” Tom’s voice got sharper with each shout, his voice raw and breaking like glass. Tord started to push himself up, expression concerned.

“Tom, you need to drink this before-” Tord was knocked down again, Tom’s tissue paper like flesh tearing at the knuckles when it collided with Tord’s jaw. Tord’s head was spinning as he groaned.

“Don’t pretend like this isn’t a big deal!”

“Wow, for a dead guy, he sure has a good punch.” 

Tom stopped, glaring up from where Tord sat on the floor to Edd and Todd. Edd was still sitting on a headstone, but his hands were out of his pockets and he was sitting up straight. Todd had actually taken several steps forward, looking like he was about to break into a sprint for Tord. Tom’s expression slackened in surprise, but then he was back to snarling at Tord.

“Oh, good. I’m not the first Frankenstein monster you’ve dragged to life tonight. That’s really fucking great. It’s not as bad if it all happens at the same time, right? I can’t fucking believe you,” Tom said with a tone almost as cold as the flesh clinging to his rotten muscles and creaking bones.

“Hey, hey, look this is weird and all, I agree, but you need to calm down. Tord doesn’t need this right now,” Todd started. Tord was quietly panting, still holding his cheek.

“Tord doesn’t need this?” Tom repeated dryly. “Really? You want to defend him after what he’s fucking done? Look at yourself! I can tell from here that your throat is practically hamburger meat. You honestly think that’s alright?! This is against the laws of nature, laws of life!”

“You have a point, but don’t take it out on Tord. He was just lonely. His curse-”

Tom broke him off, “I know all about his fucking curse! It’s awful that he has to deal with killing everyone he loves, but guess what? That doesn’t excuse what he’s done now! The curse is on his family, and everyone who dies from it is not his fucking fault. It never was. He couldn’t control that shit anymore than he could control wanting to love someone in the first place! But he can fucking control this, and look what he’s done!” 

“I had no other option!” Tord cried, both angry and upset.

“Bullshit!” 

“I tried for years, Tom! Years! Before I knew you or Matt. I was trying to fix this stupid curse for so long, I’ve tried so many different paths, but I couldn’t find anything! There is no cure, there’s no way to fix it. I’m going to forever get everyone I love killed!”

“So you suddenly get to play God?!” Tom snapped, but Tord ignored him.

“It was unfair, Tom! The only other choices I had were to make myself hate instead of care, or to lock myself away somewhere all alone, or to kill myself as my family has done.”

Tom took two shambling steps forward and glowered down at Tord in his flat suit. Tord flinched back.

“Do not try to guilt trip the dead guy! I’m the one that was killed by a goddamn falling AC. My head was crushed, Tord. I fucking remember that feeling. And then it was over. I was resting or whatever you want to call it. And suddenly I’m being woken up in a grave, feeling wind against my skull! I don’t want to hear a stupid pity party excuse when I’m a fucking zombie!”

Furious desperate tears slipped down Tord’s cheeks. “What other choice did I have, Tom?! The only ones my curse can’t touch is you all! You’re the only ones that can’t be taken from me!”

“That’s because your curse already got us, Tord! That doesn’t mean that you-” 

Tom broke off mid-sentence with a curse, and a very dry sounding snap noise caught Tord’s attention just a split second before Tom fell on the floor next to him, barely cushioning his fall with tearing skinned hands. 

Startled, Tord reached out to help him but stopped when he saw the back of Tom’s head. A large portion of the skin there was gone, just rotten away along with any sort of muscle or nerves, to show Tom’s bare skull. Large obvious cracks lined down the bone, stained in black oily smears leaking from the edges of dark molted flesh higher up on his head. His neck was absolutely purified black rot that parted to show a cracked and chip streaked spine. 

“Tom, are you okay?” 

Tord stared wide eyed when Tom threw a glare at him, still collapsed at Tord’s side. Tom didn’t respond for a moment, just groaning sharply as he shifted, and only one of his legs followed. The other slipped further out of Tom’s pant leg, showing the paled dead flesh of his ankle. 

Todd stepped up to Tord’s side before Tord could say anything, actually grabbing hold of Tord’s shoulder and pulling him up off the floor. Tord instinctively allowed Todd to pull him, though his feet stumbled and his eyes remained on Tom. Still, Tord didn’t let Todd lead him any further.

“What happened,” Todd asked, and Tom sneered.

With a sharp tone, Tom responded bitterly, “I think my leg snapped off- You know, because I’m a walking fucking corpse that’s not supposed to be walking!”

“Hey. You got out a few hits, made him cry, and yelled yourself hoarse. I think that’s quite enough, alright.” Todd spoke with a note of finality, hardly asking. His hands, mainly bone and thin flesh, were obvious on Tord’s arms, keeping him stable. Tom glared for a moment longer, before he let out a rough noise. 

With a shake of his head, Tom shoved himself over onto his back to hide his exposed spine and skull. Then he slapped his rotten hands over his eye sockets in a sign of frustration. His leg slipped almost completely out of his pant leg, limp and dead with spots of grayed flesh peeling away to show rancid muscle and peeks of stained bone. It made a heavy dragging noise when Tom rolled from it.

Todd winced, trying to inch Tord away more. After a few steps of Tord letting himself be led, Tord pulled back to a stop, grabbing Todd’s hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” Tord promised in a low voice, “Tom’s calmed down now. Let me talk with him. You and Edd can gather everything up so you’ll be right here in case you get nervous for me.” 

Todd hesitated, his gritted teeth visible through the holes in his cheek. “I don’t know, Tord. He hit you pretty hard.”

“He’s not going to do it again now that he’s had a moment to breathe… Please. I know Tom, with time he’s going to be fine. He won’t even be angry once he sees Matt again.”

“Oh let him get punched again.” Edd announced as he stepped up to them, voice casual. Todd threw a dirty look at him, but it was impossible to tell Edd’s expression under his bandanna, though Todd was pretty sure Edd was grinning.

“What kind of a boyfriend are you? You’re not even trying to stop him from getting hurt,” Todd accused, more annoyed than actually angry.

“Tord’s a full grown dark magician, or whatever. If he’s going around reviving his dead boyfriends then I think it goes without saying that he deserves to get a punch or two. Besides, we should probably let Tord talk to him before we try hauling an angry zombie dude around. I doubt Tord will let us leave him here anyway,” Edd nodded his head towards Tom, who was still laying on the ground with his hands on his face. Tord agreed, but Todd scowled for a moment before actually letting go of Tord.

As Tord walked back over to Tom, Todd muttered almost to himself, “Okay, now I really get why Tord fell in love with you.”

“Ditto.” Edd’s tone was friendly, and he nudged Todd as he went to collect the bags.

Tom made no move or sound when Tord stepped up to him, his footsteps solid and slow. Staring down at Tom, Tord scanned his dirty suit and loose leg and the way how Tom’s dead fingers touched his hairline just how he used to when he used to get headaches. With a deep breath, Tord spoke up.

“Tom. You should drink this,” Tord offered, holding the water bottle out, but Tom didn’t even drop his hands from his face.

“I’m not drinking anything you give me, witch. I’m just going to lay here until I rot into the ground like I was intended.” Tom’s tone wasn’t as sharp as before, but it was bitter. Tord probed the sore spot of the inside of his cheek with his tongue, not sure what to say.

“It will stop your body from falling apart any further. I was trying to give it to you the second you woke up so that this sort of thing wouldn’t happen...”

“Oh, wow, you’re so considerate,” Tom responded sarcastically, and Tord sighed. Despite the coldness, Tord couldn’t help but find that this was a familiar stab. In a bittersweet way, Tord had missed Tom’s edges even if they were digging into him with each word now.

“Tom, I’m serious. You’ll stay on the edge of death until you actually drink this. Please, it will help you feel better.” 

“You want to know what would make me feel better?”

“… What?”

“Being dead again.”

“Tom.”

“Just bury me with my severed leg.”

“Okay, now you’re just pouting. I don’t know how to reverse bringing you to life, so you might as well just listen to me. Besides, we’re getting Matt next anyway, and I know you don’t want to fall apart before you see him again.”

Tom’s hands slid down from his eye sockets, dragging on his thin skin and causing tiny tears along his cheeks. 

“So, you’re still going through with this? Even after what I just told you,” Tom’s tone was flat, and he spoke behind limp hands, his pit eyes tired. 

Tord offered a tear-streaked half smile.

“I have to, Tom. I just can’t stand letting this curse ruin my life any further. I know it’s not the right thing to do, but I don’t really care about that anymore.”

Tom stared at him for a long minute. His hands dropped down to his rotting neck as he sighed into the air.

“Fine, but I’m not apologizing for hitting you. And you are going to pamper the shit out of me and Matt.”

“I planned on it!” Tord’s smile spread wide, and Tom’s hand came up.

“Give me the juice.”

Tom scowled at the liquid in the bottle, but unscrewed the top without much care and drank it all down in one long swig. Pink and black seeped at his rotten throat. Once he finished, he crushed the bottle in his hand and tossed it into his grave.

“I feel like that is really disrespectful. But it’s your grave so I’m not really sure,” Edd commented, tossing Tord the backpack once Tord looked up at him.

“I’m pretty sure littering in a graveyard is disrespectful regardless of if your grave’s here. It’s the symbolism,” Todd called from where he was zipping up the duffle bag.

“It’s the symbolism,” Tom mocked in a much stronger voice than before, sounding more bored than actually annoyed, “Tord, who are these two anyway? You didn’t just wake up random people did you?”

“Of course not. You actually know them, or, at least, I told you about them. This is Edd and Todd. My previous loves before you and Matt came.” Tord busied himself by digging through the bag for clothing. Tom hummed in understanding.

“Right,” He drew out the word as he glanced at the two in question. 

Tom didn’t exactly change, but he did accept the dark blue coat from Tord. He slipped it over his stained rotting dress shirt, and abandoned the suit jacket as well as the now loose dress shoes. 

Tom’s detached leg was picked up by Edd, the only one not that uncomfortable about it. It was heavy and swollen and rotting with molded pale skin, and Edd casually picked it up by the spotted thigh. Tom snapped at him to give it back, but Tord calmed him when he told Tom that Edd would be sewing the leg back on once they reached Matt’s grave, down the hill. Edd was not helping the situation by making puns and tucking the limb under his arm like a newspaper.

Tord helped Tom onto Todd’s back, who brushed off Tom’s hesitation. Before they started their trek, Tord paused a moment.

“Tom,” Tom turned his head on Todd’s shoulder, and was surprised by Tord giving him a peck on the lips, “I missed you.”

Tord also pressed a quick kiss to Todd’s cheek, which earned a slightly uneasy hum. Tom made a disgusted noise. 

“That’s nasty, Tord! My skin is falling off!” 

“I know, right. I want to admire his bravery, but I’m also incredibly worried that kissing corpses isn’t healthy,” Todd agreed, the same sort of startled, grossed tone as Tom.

Tord laughed, taking no offense as he snatched up the shovel and took the lead down the path.


	5. Undercuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's sweet down to his exposed bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had way too much fun with this chapter

The quiet walk down the hill, filled with the sound of both shoes and Edd's bare feet making solid movement on the grass, was short lived once they reached the actual grave. 

Tom only tried to break the silence once, and it was to ask how Matt had died. Uncomfortable, Todd shifted his hands under Tom to push him higher on his back as a sort of something to do, like clearing his throat.

Tord seemed to be so startled that he stumbled, and Edd grabbed his arm to steady him. Tord apologized and laughed a bit forcefully, saying that he had been spacing for a moment. Tom repeated his question, dull as if he didn't trust Tord's words, his gray rotted chin perched on Todd's shoulder.

"He burned alive in his car the day after you died. The doctors said that it was likely he passed from breathing the fumes first."

"Wait, the next day? You're stupid curse didn't even let you mourn me before it took Matt too-? I thought you had at least like an extra week or something." Tom's expression turned blank, as if he wasn't sure how he felt. Tord just shrugged sadly, and gestured towards a line of graves.

"My curse doesn't allow for time, Tom... Matt's just over here. Watch your step, there's a few rocks around here to prevent scavengers from making burrows."

Tom didn’t miss how Edd stuck close to Tord, and pressed his bandanna covered mouth to Tord’s cheek, before letting Tord set up at the grave.

As Tord started digging, Todd carefully put Tom down on a flat raised headstone and Tom almost didn't sound sarcastic when he thanked Todd for carrying him.

The digging of Matt's grave was filled with the sound of an argument, starting practically the second Tord had the outline traced with the sharp spade of his shovel.

"Alright, boyfriend #3. I'll be your surgeon for the night," Edd announced casually as he stepped up to where Tom was sitting. He had a white first aid kit in one skeleton hand and Tom's severed leg thrown over his shoulder at the knee. Compared to his own bare legs, Tom’s was more intact, not much of the flesh entirely rotten through to bone just yet.

Tom stared at him with dull, unamused black eye sockets for almost a full minute before stating, "Like fuck you are."

Edd seemed calm, like he expected this response, though it was hard to tell with the cloth over the utterly rotten half of his face.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm more of a backwater apocalypse nanny; I should be sewing up toys, but instead I gotta stitch your leg back on. So roll up your pants."

"No." Tom scowled, his still attached leg lightly tapping.

"Well, alright, but your leg's gonna look funny if I stitch it onto your pants."

"That's not a problem considering you aren't stitching shit. I don't want you even getting close to me with a needle."

Edd tilted his head back a bit, as if he was confused, but something about his putrid black leaking eye sockets almost came off as challenging. Or maybe that was just Tom's imagination.

"Why not?"

Maybe not.

"Because I'm not trusting a dead guy to actually know how to sew right."

Todd looked over his shoulder from where he stood next to the grave. He called out helpfully, "He doesn't do too bad. He sewed my head back on."

"That's exactly why," Tom said in a pointed, short tone, "I don't want to end up looking like your neck."

Todd made a grunting noise, his hands flying up to touch his stitched throat that was still mangled and held with dark thread. His expression was offended. Tord paused as he stomped his shovel back into the turned dirt, and threw a look at Tom.

"Tom. Be nice."

"What? I'm not wrong. His neck looks like ground beef stuck together with some edgy Goth choker trying to look like barbed wire. I don't want such a shitty stitch job on my leg."

While Edd scoffed in offense, Tord leaned over his shovel to Todd and smiled kindly.

"He's just a bit grumpy, it really doesn't look that bad," Tord soothed, but Todd looked uncertain, so Tord continued with, "Besides, weren't you a secret Goth anyway?"

That got Todd laughing, mostly in surprise, his dead hands slipping from his stitched throat. "I was not! I owned one black trench coat and heavy boots for rain!"

"You were very Goth." Tord teased, returning to his digging as Todd playfully argued back.

"How dare you! You are more Goth than I'll ever be!"

"I have a curse on my family. It's my birthright to act Goth."

"More like your birthright to act like a dweeb."

As they spoke and Tord scooped heavy dirt out of the hole, Edd and Tom's argument was slightly less fond.

"The stitch job isn't supposed to be perfect, it's just supposed to be enough to keep you from breaking your stupid leg off again," Edd's tone was sharp as he explained dryly, "It's not my fault you were running around before you drank the potion."

"I wasn't running around! Even if I was, since when does my leg breaking off call for you to fuck it up even more by trying to stitch it back like you did with that guy's head?" Tom snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Edd groaned in annoyance.

"Just let me sew your leg back on. I'm trying to be nice."

"Really? I thought you were trying to scar me."

"Your flesh is already dead, I can't scar you."

Tom made a disbelieving noise, "Pft- With your stitch work you can. You’re going to make me look like a goddamn voodoo doll.”

“You already look like a voodoo doll.”

“At least I don’t have the stitches like one.”

"Oh my god! Tord," Edd called, voice incredibly impatient and irritated, throwing an incredulous stare at the grave. 

Tord had switched digging somewhere during their argument, so Todd was busy working on the hole while Tord sat fiddling with the clothe ties on his fingers. They were stained red from blood and muddy with dirt, changing the original multi colored ties into the same dirty black red color.

"What?"

"Tell your stupid dead boyfriend to let me sew back on his leg!"

Tord snorted, and when he looked at them it was clear even in the dim light that he was trying not to laugh.

"Tom, just let him stitch you together again. Trust me, we're not going to be running into anyone who can do better than Edd tonight," Tord's voice was fond and amused.

"Fuck that. He can't stitch worth shit."

"I can't?! Really? Do you even know how to sew?"

"I'd rather duct tape my leg back on than let you try it," Tom sneered, avoiding the question.

Tord laughed helplessly, "Please, don't tape your leg back on."

"You should probably hide the duct tape," Todd commented with a snicker, hurling more dirt out of the grave.

"Better yet," Edd offered sharply, ignoring Tord and Todd's distant laughter, "Let me get you a stick instead, yeah? Then you can have a peg leg. Would that be better than my fucking stitch job?!"

"You bet your rotting ass it would be!"

"I swear to- Just let me sew back on your leg."

"No!"

"You're acting like a baby. A baby without a leg."

"And you can't sew!"

"You look like a stupid zombie flamingo!"

"Fuck off!"

"You don't even have a good argument!"

"It still holds better than your fucking stitching! A preschooler could do a better job!"

"YOU CAN'T STITCH WORTH SHIT EITHER, PEGGY THE PIRATE!"

"I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

"WITH WHAT, TOM, I'VE GOT YOUR FUCKING LEG-"

Just then Tord interrupted their argument with a breathless cry of, "Both of you quit it before I cough up a lung! Ha-We reached Matt's coffin!"

Todd made sure that he was out of the grave before Tord opened the coffin this time, practically sneaking behind where Edd stood scowling. He could have also been trying to put himself between Edd and Tom, but it was obvious by his expression that he wasn't excited to see another dead body before it's been reanimated.

When Tord pried the lid off, he let out a soft hiss of pain as his stinging hands complained about the pressure and the lifting. He ignored it and turned his eyes on Matt.

A portion of Matt's flesh was thin rotted black, splitting like crevices in magma to show white bone instead of muscle or nerves, his burned skin having long decayed and peeled. His suit was flat and clung to his body in a way that made it seem like it was stuck there with sweat. The rest of his skin, which included a majority of his face, seemed to rot slower, with a pale color similar to gray bled together with yellow. His lips only partially remained, much of it chipped down with rot. Head rolled back, Tord could see how the black burns from years ago had molted the skin from his throat and thin collar. His hair was a darker version of the gleaming copper it used to be, long on one side but short on the other where his family had told the coroner to shave off the burned bits. Cracked ashy skin inched up along the shaved part of his head, like a morbid vine.

Burns were never something Tord could handle.

Tord hurriedly called for the items, which Edd, after sighing and shoving the first aid kit into Todd's hands, calmly dug out of the bag. He kept Tom's leg casually on his shoulder as he handed Tord first the jar, and then the bottle. The water made the molting skin seem even darker as it soaked in the liquid.

Tord finished cutting open another finger and wrapping it up, thus making his entire right hand tipped in bloody cloths, save his thumb. When he tried to get up, Edd first offered Tom's severed leg for him to grab, which Tord scolded.

"If you're not going to sew it on, at least give it back to him."

Stubbornly, Edd lobbed Tom's leg back onto his shoulder, and reached his hand down for Tord. "No. He's rude."

"He's just jealous my legs are in better shape than his," Tom called, smug, and Edd stood up straight, tugging Tord up with him. 

"At least my legs are attached to me."

"Alright, you two can keep bickering once I wake Matt up, but I need silence while I do this next part." Tord laughed with a roll of his eyes, leading Edd away from the grave by the hand as Tom sneered. Before Tord sat down, he gave Edd a quick kiss on the bandanna covered cheek, and ordered nicely, "Be nice."

Edd let out a tired noise, but nodded. He then stuck his bone exposed hands into his hoodie pocket and strode over to stand next to Todd and Tom, who only glared at him. Tord pulled out the book, and set up his candles. His hands felt like they were humming.

The back of his hands were hot, then burning straight through his skin to his bones. His finger tips, both sliced and intact, stung like something being twisted inside the slits of flesh. His eyes watered and hurt under unblinking lids, his vision telling him nothing but colors. When he finished the chant, his tongue felt raw and his jaw ached. 

Tord was dizzy, but he could hear Tom's voice in the dulled air, "Are his eyes supposed to glow like that?"

There was a sharp breath, followed by more gasping and a voice that was high and broken as it cried, "Tord?!"

Tord jumped, forgetting about the candles in his shock, and narrowly missed slamming his hands into the flames. He scrambled over the grass, until he was leaning over the lip of the grave. 

Matt was stilling laying in his coffin, but his hands and legs were jerked up, pressing against the close walls of his box. His eyes were pits, much like the other three, but they seemed more red in the shadows of his grave. He was looking directly at Tord, his mouth gaping in heavy pants.

"Hey, Matt." Tord offered a lopsided smile, unsure.

Matt blinked, his dead red hair dripping like strings into his eyes.

Then he was suddenly bolting up, out of his coffin. His skin made a cracking noise, but he was already at the edge of the grave, hands reaching up and touching Tord's cheeks. One of his hands was rough with rotted skin, while the other just felt cold and thin and dry, like a glove.

"Tord," Matt spoke, sounding shocked and in awe, then he was repeating the name in a more elated voice that broke from his dry throat, "Tord! Tordy- My darling! Thank god!"

Tord felt himself blush, but he was suddenly being tugged down by Matt's hands grabbing his arms. 

"Well, I guess one of us was bound to eat him," Edd calmly stated upon watching Tord’s legs disappear into the grave. Todd made a concerned sounding noise, but Tom snorted.

"Serves him right," Tom muttered, but didn't take his eye sockets off the grave.

Todd frowned at them, scolding, "Guys..."

Almost with ease, Matt dragged Tord against him. Tord let out a laugh of surprise as his face became mushed against Matt’s hard cold chest, and Matt's legs nearly tripped, but the tall dead man clung to Tord. How cold, ice cold, the body was against Tord's chest and how incredibly, impossibly thin the waist felt, was what should have crossed Tord's mind as Matt curled around him. But all Tord could think was that this was Matt.

Tord was able to ignore the reek of rot and the sinking under his arms at Matt’s waist, just holding. He felt Matt’s dry dead hands smooth down his back and touch his hair. The kisses on his head were gentle and felt a bit odd, more like nuzzles of a cheek rather than of lips.

Not moving his head from Matt’s chest, Tord asked in a subdued slow voice, "Matt. Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes," Matt answered instantly, voice raw and sad, "But, give me a minute before we have the whole 'we're dead' talk. I'm just so happy to see you again, I thought I never would. Your curse is a lot crueler than I thought it would be."

Tord made a soft noise, like a sad hum, and he pulled back, only to push up on his toes to kiss Matt’s cold lips. Part of Matt’s lips chipped with the pressure, but neither noticed. Icy, solid like stone just lightly covered in thin cobweb like skin.

“Tord, you better not be making out with a corpse down there,” Edd’s voice rang out, followed by some quick footsteps as Todd approached the grave. Todd stopped and made a face.

“He is. Tord, oh my god, really? He hasn’t even drank the potion yet, he’s technically still dead. What if his head snaps off or something,” Todd spoke, sounding mainly concerned and scolding, and Tord and Matt both looked up at him. 

Tord noticed the bottle in Todd’s hand, and let out a huff that just barely counted as a laugh. He pulled back from Matt, just enough that he could reach up towards Todd. 

“Right, you’re right. Sorry. Matt was always able to bring out my more cuddly side.” 

“Oh, so he’s the one that made you all sweet,” Todd mused curiously, giving Tord the bottle. Matt was staring at him, clearly focusing on Todd’s mangled throat and the holes in his cheek and his pit eyes.

“I told you. You all have had a hand in that.”

“What- Who is that?” Matt questioned in a hoarse voice, hands still on Tord’s waist. He sounded afraid. 

Tord busied himself with unscrewing the bottle top, but spoke casually, “That’s Todd. The man before you and Tom. I told you two about him. He was very kind and smart, and he and I used to study in parks because Todd hated me being inside all the time.”

“Todd?” Matt repeated, confused, and Tord held the bottle out to him. He stared at it for a moment before taking it, and slowly bringing it to his mouth. Trusting enough to drink it without prompting. Just as the pink liquid seeped into his molten skin and dripped down the rot of his throat, Matt jumped and coughed, expression startled. He burst out with a higher, more stable voice, “WAIt- The Todd that used to take you for picnics, and bribed you outside with coffee, and walked home with you- your ‘second love’ Todd? That Todd?!”

Tord jolted a bit as liquid and Matt’s shout touched his cheeks and shirt. 

A bit shyly, Tord nodded. “Yes. That Todd.”

“B-but. Why does he look like that? I thought he would look like you. I mean, you still look like you’re alive.” 

Todd and Tord stared at him for a moment, confused. Matt just looked at Tord, his expression tight.

Then, Tord understood. Tord gently reached out to touch Matt’s peeled cheek, where the rot tattooed down to his bone up the side of his head.

“Matt, I am still alive,” Tord said carefully, “You and Todd are dead, you both died. I brought you back so you’ll still look like you’re dead until I can figure out a better solution. It’s all superficial… Did you think that we were angels? Ghosts?”

“I… yeah. I mean, it made sense. I thought- You’re here. The only reasons you could be here would be that either I was alive- which is impossible because I remember dying, with all that fire and smoke and the locked door- or that you had died too and we… But, you said you brought me back? Like a zombie?”

“Technically, yes. It’s been a few years, but I finally found someway to stop this curse, or at least reverse it? In a way. So that I can at least have those I’ve already loved back.” 

Matt didn’t move for a long minute, just staring at Tord with wide dark sockets. His hand, gnarled rot over his fingers, came up to touch Tord’s hair, and it was obvious that he was finally looking at his own skin. He let out a sigh as his hand slipped into Tord’s messy locks, as if he just gave up on wishing the flesh to be alive.

“How bad do I look?” Matt’s voice sounded strained, just a bit, but he had a sort of awkward half smile, like he was joking. 

“I think you look drop dead gorgeous,” Edd’s voice announced calmly before Tord could speak, and both Tord and Matt looked up in surprise at the new voice. 

“Edd,” Tord started, but Matt let out a light laugh.

“Puns and charm,” Matt stood up straight, distractedly smoothing some of Tord’s locks through his dead fingers, “You must be Edd. You’re the only other boyfriend I know about.”

“Well, dead boyfriend #4 just won me over. You’re much nicer than the last one. Welcome to the club,” Edd leaned down and held out a hand, giving Matt full view of his leaking eyes and the severed leg still perched on his shoulder. 

Tord gave Matt an encouraging one armed hug as he also reminded Edd to be careful. 

Matt and Tord climbed from the grave with the help from Edd and Todd, Matt only slightly hesitating before taking Todd’s rawboned hands. 

Once up, Matt didn’t see Tom for maybe a handful of seconds, but it seemed almost instantly that Matt’s gaze locked on the zombie, sitting on a gravestone like it was couch. 

With a whispered, breathless, “Tom” Matt was running. He sprinted and threw himself at Tom, knocking both of them nearly off the headstone. Tom let out a shout of surprise, but it ended in a laugh that was lighter than anything he had let slip since waking. The two corpses hugged, ignoring the way their skin pulled and their bones let out soft pops. There was kissing, which Tom seemed calm in returning even when hardly covered teeth clicked between breaks in their thin skins. The pure joy between them was almost enough to ignore the exposed bones and rotten muscles decaying like oil down their necks.

Tord stared at them, seemingly caught in the awe of their reunion, and something about his expression made it clear that he was happy to see them together again. Like he missed them being together as much as they did. Todd led Tord from the edge of the grave, and towards the other two, with his cool hand in Tord’s.

Tom ended up making a comment about Matt’s half cut look, which led to Matt frantically feeling his hair in a panic. He was already whining lowly by the time Tord and Todd approached. Tord explained that Matt’s parents had decided on cutting off the burnt parts of his hair, and Matt scowled. Tord was able to calm him down a bit when he offered Matt a purple beanie, which was able to hide much of his rotted part of his skull and uneven cut of his hair. Along with the beanie, Matt also happily exchanged his dead suit with a loose overcoat which he buttoned and zipped closed over his exposed ribs and spotted rot flesh. 

As he threw on an extra scarf, Matt asked about Tom’s missing leg.

“He has it,” Tom pointed at Edd, who looked back at him.

“I’ve been trying to sew it back on ever since we got here, but he won’t let me near him because he’s a damn cry baby.” Edd stated sharply.

“It would hold better with fucking duct tape.”

“I’m hiding the duct tape,” Todd called casually, stuffing the bag. 

“Thank you, Todd,” Tord said as Tom scowled.

“I’m going to nail it back on, then.”

Todd hummed in response, “Hiding the nails too.”

“I’m going to hit you with your own leg,” Edd snapped at Tom and Matt surprisingly snorted. When he gained several sets of stares, Matt smiled.

“You lot act like you’ve know each other all your lives. It’s… really nice.”

Tord agreed, but Tom, Edd, and Todd all stayed purposely quiet as they readied to leave for the next trip. Instead of Todd, Matt pulled Tom into his arms to carry. Todd didn’t complain, and neither did Tom, although Edd muttered about Tom really being a baby now. Which earned a snarl from the man as he hugged Matt’s shoulders. 

Tord hurried so that he could walk close enough to Matt and Tom to tell them stories of things that happened after their deaths, with Todd and Edd close behind. Despite, or maybe because of, the light bickering between Edd and Tom, the five of them chatted as they left one graveyard for another.


	6. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat's a bit emotional. What happens next will warm your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably should've used the 'in pieces' joke for Pat instead of Todd but, by god, i will not look back 
> 
> y'all my spacing sucks

It took the entirety of the car ride to finally convince Tom to let Edd sew his leg back on, which honestly was much faster than Tord expected. Tord drove through streets that were either lively or entirely dead, a laughing Todd in the passenger seat holding his hood closer to his face with the strings whenever they slowed with Edd and Tom bickering in the back. Matt held Tom practically curled in his lap, just laughing and offering weak agreements with Edd that couldn’t he finish without laughing, often just resting his head in the rotten curl of Tom’s neck while he giggled. 

Once they arrived at the graveyard, the repacking of the bag and trek seemed much more manageable. Tord made sure to grab an extra kit left under the seat, tucking it into the duffle bag, which Edd took before Tord could even try lifting it. 

During the walk between grass tangled stone and polished markers, Tord entertained his entourage by recalling stories of Pat, telling them how much they would love him. Matt seemed enthusiastic, and agreed that Pat sounded cute, but Tom was too busy telling Edd that he would gut him if he messed up on stitching back on his leg. Todd made casual hums, but he was mainly focused on making sure Tord didn’t distractedly trip or run into a headstone, which he did often.

At Pat’s grave, Todd actually insisted on having the first shift in digging. Tord tried to laugh it off, but Todd gave him a peck on the forehead that was mainly dried teeth and thin torn skin which quieted him long enough for Todd to slip the shovel from Tord’s blistered hands.

He probably would’ve complained a moment more if Tom hadn’t added in sharply without lifting his head from Matt’s shoulder, “Sit the fuck down, Tord. He does a better job than you anyway, even without most of his muscles.”

Tord pouted at Tom, but obediently sunk down to sit beside the headstone. He used the lantern light to look back through his book, rechecking his notes with bloody clothe wrapped fingers. Matt sat down in the place beside him, their knees touching as he settled down. He flashed a smile that somehow didn’t lose charm with the rotten crackled rot covering half of his face, and Tord found himself grinning back. He couldn’t believe how good it was to see that smile again.

Edd sat down beside Matt, busy digging through the bag to find the first aid kit. He moved Tom’s leg from his shoulder to his lap as he threaded the needle. It flopped like a doll filled with sand, the skin grayed blue and lined with peeled rot in the dim light. 

“You know, I could have gotten this done before Matt woke up if you weren’t such a baby,” Edd muttered, looking at at how Tom was curled in Matt’s lap with his arms crossed over his chest. Matt’s arms were wrapped sweetly about his waist. 

“You’re lucky I’m letting you do this at all,” Tom snapped back.

If Edd had eyes, he would’ve rolled them. “Yeah, I’m the lucky one for getting to sew back on your leg- Shut up, and take off your pants so I can do this right.”

Tom scowled, but having Matt seemed to keep him calm enough not to be too difficult. With a bit of shifting, Matt helped him expose the bone and rot touched skin where the leg had snapped off. He had to sort of lie down across Matt’s lap so that Edd could line up the separated skin properly, which led to his head almost resting in Tord’s lap when he relaxed.

“You’re going to be fine, Tom-Tom,” Matt hummed warmly, squeezing one of Tom’s dead hands all while ignoring the ribbon thin flesh. His other hand was curled about the rot on Tom’s throat, as if protecting it from getting hurt by the angle. Tord looked worriedly down at Tom’s expression.

Edd was already pulling the first stitch together at the top of his leg, and he let out a soft sounding scoff. “You can’t be this nervous. You’re already dead, it’s not like I could even hurt you.”

“Look, I don’t know about you guys, but having an entire fucking limb getting stitched back on isn’t something normal, alright? It’s not like I’m getting a temporary tattoo here. My leg fell off. And now it’s getting stitched on without anesthetic and I still can’t feel a fucking thing. Forgive me if I’m not miss Mary fucking sunshine.” Tom’s voice was sharp, almost shaken.

Edd’s hands paused, touching the dead flesh of Tom’s severed thigh with skeletal hands and a thick needle touching rotten skin.

“Oh,” was all Edd offered, but something about his tone sounded startled. When he started stitching again, he seemed to be moving more carefully. 

Matt said nothing, his expression calm and understanding as he brought Tom’s hand to his mouth and kissed the peeling flesh. Tord’s hand, blistered, reached out and smoothed Tom’s hair between sore fingers. Tom just stared at him, his expression guarded but not hostile.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” Tord stated softly, and tried to continue, but Tom just sighed. His free hand came up and found Tord’s fingers still in his thin hair. Clumsily, Tom grabbed his hand, cold spotty fingers curling around coarse alive ones. Their locked hands rested on his forehead, as if he was just too tired to move more.

“I know you are. Stop saying it already.” Tom said, no annoyance or venom. He almost sounded sad.

“… I’m sorry.” Tord offered weakly, shy and startled. Tom snorted and shook his head, but didn’t drop their hands.

“Which one of these guys taught you to say sorry? You never used to apologize for anything. An unapologetic crybaby jerk is who I remember you being. You’re still a jerk and a crybaby, but now you’re so quick to just apologize.”

Tord’s thumb smoothed back and forth over Tom’s icy wrist. “You’ll meet him later on tonight.”

“I’ll give him a punch too,” Tom remarked, a dull laugh to his voice, “He had no right to teach you how to own up to your shit. It’s fucking impossible to be mad at you when you’re apologizing all the damn time.”

Tord huffed, but didn’t know what else to say. He was just glad Tom was holding his hand, was talking to him without a snarl. 

Edd finished connecting the front of his leg, having to shift Tom’s knee to his shoulder so that he could get the sides properly. When Tord called for Todd to give him the shovel, Tord slyly kissed Tom’s wrist before letting go. Tom groaned about it still being gross, but Tord just laughed as he slid into the hole. Edd had Tom roll over to get the back of his thigh stitched, which Matt helped with.

“Just like old times, eh?” Matt hummed warmly, teasingly patting Tom’s butt. 

“Matt!” Tom barked, trying to push himself up, but Edd warned him about the stitching he was doing even with a chuckle to his tone. Tom settled for just digging his elbows into Matt’s leg, which didn’t do much considering he didn’t seem to feel it.

“Oh, calm down, Tom. Your butt is still very nice,” Tord stated, stabbing down the spade and heaving dirt from the grave. Tom gave him a disbelieving stare.

“His isn’t the only one, Tord,” Matt responded, perching his cracking skinned cheek in his hand, “You seem to have taken good care of yourself since our deaths.”

“Matt, he’s trying to dig,” Todd warned, obviously smirking when Tord made a noise that was like a squeak.

Edd muttered in agreement, tugging the string taunt through Tom’s thigh. “Yeah, don’t make him flustered or he’ll cut off his own toes. This I can handle, but I’m not stitching back on anything bleeding.”

“It doesn’t even feel like you’re stitching anything now,” Tom remarked.

“That’s because your nerves are dead, love,” Matt stated and ruffled Tom’s hair. Tord calmly stated that Tom should be able to feel things just fine despite his dead nerves, though it might be very faint. 

“I’ll look into fixing it later.”

While Tord was focusing on the solid thunk of his shovel stabbing the ground, repeatedly throwing dirt clear just to hear the faint noise of it mingle in the grass, he heard the distinct snip of scissors and a light order for Tom to try moving his leg. 

Then came a hard thud, and Edd yelped.

“Seriously, I stitched it for you!”

“What happened?”

“He kicked me!”

“You asked me to move my leg, what did you expect?”

“Not to kick me in the chest, what the hell!?”

“Your instructions were unclear.”

A brief argument ensued, touched with laughter from Matt, Todd, and Tord. The constant chatter was enough to distract Tord from the constant pain of digging, and, before he realized it, he hit the coffin lid. Matt jumped down to help Tord with the last of the dirt, while Todd helplessly tried to interrupt the ridiculous conversation between his own laughs. Upon prying open the coffin, Tord winced and Matt let out a surprised gasp.

“Oh, wow. How did you say he died again?” Matt asked, peeking over Tord’s shoulder. Tord swallowed dryly.

“He was pushed from a building, from about four stories up. He landed on the sidewalk right next to where we first met. He died on impact.”

Pat wasn’t the worst looking out of the others, his body decayed less seriously with more flesh than exposed bone like Edd or Todd. But he was in pieces. 

It was clear by the way his suit sagged that several parts of his arms and legs must’ve deteriorated out of the stitches so that the broken bones just fell out of place after years. The only exposed bone seemed to be the tips of his fingers and parts of his hands, but it was hard to tell. His chest was caved in, and the molted rot on his skin was a sickly yellow. The places where the skin melted with decay revealed sickly gray stringy muscles across his nose and along his cheek. The way his head laid made it clear that the back of his head was crushed in. His hair fell flatly over his face, so unlike when he was alive and the natural bounce to his hair made curls above his eyes.

Matt slipped arms around Tord in a hug and called up, “Edd? I think you’ll have to stitch this guy up too.”

Todd and Tom stayed out of the grave, Tom testing out his sewed leg and Todd just perched at the lip of the grave, ready to help when called to. Tord and Matt helped Edd roll up sleeves and held dislocated parts together while Edd sewed them back into place. It was a struggle, and Tord had to step back for a minute more than once. When they finished, Edd called casually to Tom that Pat looked much more like a voodoo doll than he did. Tom yelled a curse back. 

From fingers to a wrist and parts of arms and legs, stitches made morbid rings. Todd said that the stitches might be too much to wake up with, and Tord instantly agreed. Edd covered up the stitches with white bandages, which Tord had been smart enough to know to bring extra of. By the time Edd and Matt climbed out to let Tord start the ritual, Pat looked much better, though they left the rot of his skin alone.

After the herbs, water, and a fifth sliced fingertip, Tord was helped out of the grave by Matt and Todd. The candles made Matt frown, but the chanting seemed to terrify him.

“Wait, that’s all part of the ritual? The eyes and the glowing, and the floating and the fire-” Matt was asking in a whisper, but Todd and Edd just nodded. Tom didn’t take his eyes off Tord.

With a spinning head and a throbbing jaw, Tord sat up straighter the second the final word fell from his stinging lips. His eyes seemed to continue gleaming, faraway, until a harsh cry entered the air from the grave. Just a sharp shout, like someone who had been startled. 

Tord shoved himself up, legs shaking and hands twitching, but he made quick steps to the grave. The second he looked in, his eyes met Pat’s stare. Dark eye sockets with thin lids, wide in confusion. The liquid from his mouth slipped down his chin and stained his white shirt. He was huffing, one of his hands raised to the back of his head while his other clutched the chest of his shirt.

“Tord…” It was just a rasp of Tord’s name, not questioning, just in shock. Tord smiled weakly, sinking to his knees. He paused to stop himself from swaying.

“Hi, Patty.” 

Pat didn’t say anything, just looked more lost. The hand from the back of his head slid down, coated in gray-black rot. Then he was looking down at his hands, at the bandages, at the color of his skin, at the bone tips of his fingers. His deep voice sounded so sore, “What- happened?”

Tord paused a moment before grabbing the water bottle next to him. He held it out.

“This should help you feel better. Please,” Tord couldn’t help the slight sad, teary tone that his voice took, “drink it.”

Pat seemed to think for a moment, before his stitched dead hands flexed into fists and he slowly pushed himself into standing. He gazed at his own coffin as he stepped from it, up to where Tord was. Pat’s hand seemed to shake as he reached out and took the bottle, his cold hand brushing over Tord’s fingers almost deliberately. Tord didn’t shiver. 

With Tord’s imploring, expected eyes on him, Pat slowly opened the bottle and he drank. Tord could hear a slight crack and pop as the liquid touched the flesh down Pat’s throat and soaked into his body, into his broken bones. This time, Tord did shudder slightly.

Pat closed the empty bottle again, and looked up at Tord.

“I should be dead.” Pat sounded stronger, but his tone was still hollow. 

“Let’s get you out of there before we talk should and should not,” Tord offered. Tord held out his hands, and Pat’s focus was on the bloodied cloths on now five fingers. 

“I remember what happened, Tord.” Pat’s hands came up and slipped to Tord’s wrists, the bottle dropped to the ground and forgotten. Tord helped pull him up, Pat’s feet making pops until he was out and he was already trying to stand. Pat spoke with a voice that was stable, factual. “Someone pushed me out a window. From the fourth floor. I felt the ground crack my skull, Tord.” 

Tord winced at his words, standing after Pat, trying to hold onto his hands, but Pat was pulling back.

“Pat, I-”

Pat pushed passed him, gazing at the black sky and the bedraggled teeth of the headstones sticking up from the ground. Tord could see the large spiderweb crack of Pat’s skull under the long thin hair, where his skull had been glued back together years ago. 

“What- What did you do?” 

Before Tord could say anything, Tom’s scoff breached the air. Pat’s head snapped to look at the noise. 

“And Tord said you were smart. Take a guess, genus,” Tom commented, and Matt frowned at him.

“Tom, let them have their reunion. I thought you weren’t mad at him anymore?”

“I’m not. Still a little bitter though.”

Pat didn’t seem to hear any of them, he just slowly turned back to look at Tord.

“What did you do,” Pat repeated, louder this time, stepping closer. Tord bit his lip.

“I. I revived you.” Tord stated, sounding almost uncertain. “I know you never believed in my curse, but it got you. It got you and them, and everyone I’ve ever loved. I had to do something, Pat.” 

“You had to do something?” 

“Pat-”

“You had to do this?!” Pat’s stitched hands came up, and shoved Tord with enough strength to send him falling back into the grave. Tord landed with a heavy thud in the padded coffin, the hard landing knocking the air out of his lungs and made his brain freeze as he tried to breathe. 

Todd, Matt, and Edd let out sounds of surprise, ranging from a gasp to a shout. 

“Whoa! Oh my god,” Matt started to run toward the grave, but Tom stuck his arm out in front of Matt.

“Matt, let them have their reunion.”

Edd and Todd rushed forward, looking in just to make sure Tord hadn’t cracked his head. When they saw him blinking and gasping, they sighed in relief. Pat paid them no mind.

Edd looked ready to yell at Tom, and even Matt scowled at him, but Pat was suddenly talking.

“You had to pretend to be God? You had no other choice?! Really?” Pat’s voice was breathless, like he was the one pushed, and his expression looking down at Tord wheezing in his coffin was twisted with pain and confusion and anger. “You were backed into a corner, were you? No other option! Not moving on? Not letting the dead rest? Not pulling your head out of your own ass and realizing that the balance of life and death isn’t yours to mess with?! Not a single one of those options crossed your mind before you resorted to this?!”

Tord managed to catch his breath while Pat yelled, his back aching and head spinning and chest in pain. Todd slipped into the grave, touching Tord’s face and chest and trying to get him to talk. Tord only shook his head as he huffed, but he allowed Todd to pull him into sitting up so that Todd could check the back of his head and his back. 

“He’s got a point.”

“Tom-”

“And I’m not even the only one you’ve brought back. You’ve done the unspeakable, not once, not twice. You’ve done it four times! Do you have any idea how absolutely awful that is,” Pat continued. The odd pink liquid from before seemed to be leaking from his dark eye sockets. Like tears.

“Actually, he’s done it five times now,” Edd offered offhandedly, looking almost bored now that he knew Tord was okay.

“Edd-” Matt scolded, but once again was broken off.

Pat was glaring right into Tord’s eyes from where he stood, shoulders quaking,“I can’t believe that you’ve done something so horrible. It’s so unheard of and sick, I can’t believe you did it. Bringing back the dead is supposed to be impossible for a reason!”

“Yeah, well so is Tord’s curse,” Matt said pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Pat threw a look at him, then down at a still wheezing Tord. He still seemed utterly lost, and let out a deep pained sound. He turned from the grave and stalked out of view. 

Tord could hear Tom whistle, “Nice, Matt.” 

“Hush up, you grump- Todd, is Tord okay?”

Todd ran his thin hands down Tord’s back, brushing off dirt and feeling for breaks. When he found a few sharp bumps, Todd ended up reaching inside Tord’s shirt to check. He pulled free several cords each fixed with gleaming stones, and Todd let out a sigh of relief. At least Tord wasn’t seriously injured. Still, landing on those rocks probably didn’t feel great. Tord struggled to breathe, coughing a bit and leaning into Todd’s hands.

“He’s going to be bruised, but I don’t think anything’s broken. He just has to catch his breath again.” 

Edd leaped down into the grave clumsily. Both he and Todd helped Tord shakily stand, and Edd lightly flicked one of the now loose necklaces dangling at Tord’s chest. “Having a rocky night, love?”

Tord nudged the cold stones to touch his own sore chest, a groan in his voice as he spoke lowly, “Edd, please… Ugh- Where did Pat go?” 

Tom appeared at the lip of the grave, looking bored even with his rotten throat. “He’s moping under a tree.” Tom hooked a thin thumb over his shoulder in a casual gesture.

“Well, let him mope,” Todd stated, sounding tired, “Jeez, Tord. That push could’ve hurt you.”

Tord laughed weakly, rolling his shoulder a bit which resorted in a light twinge. He tried to play off the wet gloss in his eyes.

“It’s nothing I didn’t deserve,” Tord lightly said, slowly stepping out of the coffin with the help of two pairs of dead hands on his arms.

“Damn right,” Tom smirked as he leaned down and held out a hand. Matt tried scolding him as Tom hauled Tord out of the grave, but Edd was the one that broke him off.

“It’s good, Matt. Tord’s breathing fine now. Though I really think someone else should stand in front of Tord for the next one.”

“It’s fine, guys-” Tord tried, but Todd seemed fine arguing from inside a grave.

“It is not fine, Tord. This is the second time one of these guys attacked you. We still have four more to go after this one, and I am not going to stand by for the next four hits.”

“I might,” Tom shrugged, earning a sharp nudge from Matt.

“You will not.” Matt muttered, but he seemed to be holding back a smile.

Tord looked around Tom and Matt, searching with a slightly aching neck until his eyes landed on a curled up figure hunched under a tree about three plots away. Todd tried to argue when Tord stepped away, but the other dead men seemed to refuse to help him get out of the grave in time. 

“Just let Tord do his thing.” Edd laughed in a way that almost sounded careless.

“What, get hit?”

“I mean, probably.”

“Edd-”

Tord walked slowly, the conversation behind him following him at a casual volume. He nearly tripped on a stray rock, but otherwise managed to pass headstone after headstone until he stopped just a few feet behind Pat. 

Pat was sitting with his knees to his chest, just staring off further into the graveyard. Tord noticed that Pat’s sleeves were rolled up, revealing white bandages and dead flesh. Some of the white bandages were loosened, revealing the thick deep stitches holding his body together. It was obvious that he had peeled them back. 

For a moment, Tord tried to think of what to say, fighting back a chill, but his mind was still slow from the pain of getting his breath stolen. 

Finally, he tried with a very rough sounding, “Pat. I-”

“Are you okay?” Pat’s voice was sad, low, and still the words made Tord jump. 

“I- Yes. I’m fine, I’m not hurt or anything.”

There was a beat of silence, which Tord wasn’t sure how to fill, but it seemed he didn’t need to.

Pat spoke in the same tone, and didn’t even bother lifting his head, “I’m sorry.” 

“-what?” 

“I’m sorry,” Pat repeated, only slightly stronger, “Not for pushing you. Well, actually yeah, that too. I just got so angry, and- I shouldn’t have pushed you, that was unfair and could have hurt you seriously, which I’ve never wanted to do once in my life… Not that I’m alive anymore either, but still.”

Tord took a breath that only stung slightly, and he stepped closer. He sat down beside Pat a bit shakily, his body still aching in protest, but he ignored it. Pat didn’t try to look at him, his eye sockets covered in thin skin, his eyes closed. Like he was sleeping. 

“It’s okay. I deserve a bit of shoving and hitting for what I’ve done, and I understand that. I have to say, though, your method was slightly less battering than Tom’s.” Tord offered a smile that Pat didn’t see.

“Is that why you’ve got a bruise on your cheek? You’ve just been reviving a bunch of people that should still be dead, and letting them hit you?”

“Er, technically?” One of Tord’s hands, fingers in stained cloths, fiddled with one of the necklaces that had slipped out of his collar. Something about the pain that spiked when his cut and covered skin touched the stones made him feel better. Perhaps it was in his head. 

Tord laughed in a nervous way, and felt relief when Pat let out a huff of a chuckle. Not a full out laugh, or a snicker. Just a breath, but it meant the world. Then, Pat’s eye’s opened, revealing black dark pits touched with more pink liquid. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Pat, like I said, it’s alright-”

“Not for that. I’m not talking about pushing you,” Pat interrupted, voice pained. Tord frowned.

“Then what are you apologizing for?”

“I’m apologizing for not believing you in the first place. I never believed in curses or spells or any of that witchcraft crap. I just thought you were delusional, or psychotic. I was so sure that someone had convinced you that you had a curse, or that your guilt over other people’s deaths had made you paranoid. I was trying to figure out what was wrong and how to help you, but I never once thought to listen to what you said about your curse. I didn’t even help you look for a solution for it.” Pat sighed, his voice raw with emotion but his face neatly blank as he stared forward. 

Tord blinked. “Wait. You dated me, even though you were sure I was having a psychotic episode?”

Pat spoke calmly, “I didn’t care if you had a mental illness. You were cute and sweet and so much fun to talk to. You made me feel special. I just wanted to help you, and maybe show you that falling in love wouldn’t end in disaster… Fat lot of good that did.”

Tord paused a moment before reaching out and lightly tucking some of Pat’s long thinned hair behind his deteriorating ear, like he remembered doing so many times before. 

“Pat. I know you didn’t believe my curse, you’re not the only one that didn’t. But that doesn’t matter. I fell in love with you anyway, and you helped me more than you could ever know, even if it wasn’t with fixing my curse.” This time, Pat caught Tord’s smile and he stared, unsure. “There is no fixing my curse, Pat. I tried years after you died every little solution I could think of. I even just tried living with it, accepting that I’ll kill those I love, but I couldn’t… And this,” Tord let his knuckles touch Pat’s cold cheek, tracing a tear in his dead skin, “was the only option I had left, pet. I’m sorry.”

Pat actually leaned closer, though his mouth was set in a frown. “You’re only option was to grave rob?”

Tord offered an awkward wince, “It was the only option that wouldn’t have resulted in more blood on my hands.”

Pat sat up, one of his stitched hands slipping to grab Tord’s outstretched wrist. Calmly he looked at the bloodied cloths tied around his fingers. 

“Really?”

Tord chuckled, wrestling the hold a little so that he could hold Pat’s hand. “I meant figuratively- This is the only option I had that wouldn’t have more death on my hands.”

“You are really bad at wording tonight,” Pat stated, an actual smile touching his lips as he squeezed Tord’s hand. 

“He’s bad at wording all the time!” Tom called from a few plots away, and when Tord turned to scowl at him, he was lightly hit on the back by a bag. Tord muttered a light curse at the pressure on his sore back, and Matt suddenly grabbed Tom from behind.

“Okay, that’s it! You’re not allowed to walk until you stop being rude,” Matt announced, and Tom struggled in his arms. 

“That’s a stupid punishment!”

“Then stop whining,” Edd responded, and Matt glanced at him.

“I’ll pick you up next. See this as a warning, Edd.”

Edd took a step back even as he stated skeptically, “You wouldn’t. You can’t hold both of us at the same time.”

“I can try.”

“Well, that’s a threat. I’m going to go stand behind Todd now.” 

Pat took the bag that was thrown, and frowned at it. His tone was calm, casual. “So, I take it that those are your previous lovers?”

Tord nodded, unzipping the bag in Pat’s hands and pulling out some clothes.

“Yes. I told you about them before. Edd, Todd, Tom and Matt. You probably already figured out who is who,” Tord smiled, and he caught Pat staring at him for a long moment.

“These are new,” Pat muttered, his touching Tord’s ear, where cold flat crystal flattened the soft skin, “I remember you used to have tiny diamonds when you first got them pierced. These look so much nicer.”

“Really? They’re a type of quarts, rose I think.”

“They’re beautiful. They almost make your eyes seem brighter.”

Tord blinked, smiling shyly before handing Pat the clothes in his hands. “Thank you- Now, get dressed, pet. We have a few more stops to make.”

Pat stared at him, but after a moment, Pat just let out a soft breath. The clothes Tord brought for him almost fit him perfectly. Tord caught a peek at a very crack splintered spine before Pat pulled on a sleeveless turtleneck shirt, followed by a warm jacket that seemed expensive. Once Pat zipped back up the bag, he was uncomfortably touching the rough back of his head. He was instantly noticed. After some awkward apologies for startling them (which Tom just played off with ‘who wouldn’t want to push Tord in a hole’ even from where he was held captive in Matt’s arms), Tord tied Pat’s thin hair in a low ponytail, just to keep it less messy. Tord helped Edd wrap a neat bandage over Pat’s the shatter stuck skull, and once Edd called that he was done, Tord used his hands on Pat’s cold cheeks to pull him into a slow kiss. 

Pat hesitated, but pressed back with thin split lips, and Tord grinned widely against two more kisses. When they pulled back, Pat muttered a soft, “Gross” with a smile. When Tord went in for another kiss, Pat kindly swatted him away, seriously declaring that it was incredibly unnerving, and how sick it was to want to kiss a corpse as he flipped up his hood to hide the bandages on his head.

“Hey, Patty cakes, how sick is this?” Edd made sure he had Pat’s attention before pulling down his bandanna to expose a rotten, mainly bone jaw, and then he pressed an odd lip-less smooch to the corner of Tord’s mouth. Tord instantly smirked and bit back a happy chuckle. Edd’s bare teeth made a click when he continued, “Trick question, it’s not sick- it’s dead.” 

Not only Pat, but also Todd and Tom let out disgusted noises. Matt teasingly ‘booed’ Edd’s joke but both he and Tord were laughing as Edd pulled back up his bandanna casually, snickering dryly to himself.

“THAT’S DISGUSTING- OH MY GOD YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY SKIN.”

“EDD, YOUR EYES ARE STILL LEAKING ROT.”

“TORD, YOU’RE FUCKIN NASTY FOR WANTING THAT-”

Edd led the way out of the graveyard, holding the shovel and lantern, with Matt (once again carrying Tom, who didn’t even complain) and Todd with the duffle bag close behind. Despite the yelling and grossed out noises, Pat didn’t complain when Tord grabbed his hand to lead him out of the graveyard.


	7. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pau was placed in a crypt upon his death, Tord has to break it open to get him out. He's a bit tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have y'all ever broken open a crypt?? that shit is hard

Pau’s cemetery was very small and located on some very private property outside the town where Pat’s graveyard had been. 

The drive over was filled with jokes and laughing stories, Pat almost instantly slipping into the conversation the others started. The light teases made Tord feel like they were all old friends, catching up and bonding over the slight sneer at Tord’s poor choices or his cuter moments. Tord excused his slow driving and glossy eyes on the embarrassment, but that only seemed to encourage them. By the time they reached the gated property, it seemed that every single of Tord’s entourage agreed that Tord’s hair seemed way too unruly and long, though Pat, Todd, and Matt fondly stated that there was no rush, that Tord looked good with longer hair, that not many could make the long horns of hair look as nice. 

Edd ruffled Tord’s hair when Tord finished zipping up the duffel bag, sneaking the bag under his arm yet again. Tord flashed him an unamused look that didn’t work too well with how his lips twitched into a smile, and Edd brushed a skeletal hand to touch the light bruises on his cheek. The cold bone and dry flesh felt good against the throbbing, but Tord waved him off with a laugh, telling him to stop fussing. 

Matt stole the shovel from the truck when he gave Tord a quick hug, and Tord remarked that he didn’t revive them to dote on him. 

Tom let out an obviously sarcastic gasp. “And here I thought you woke us up to wipe your ass and call you master.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Tom.” Tord teasingly said. 

“That is a very specific fantasy,” Todd noted.

“It’s not even his weirdest one,” Matt announced, his arm around Tom’s waist with the shovel on his other shoulder.

“How is being a zombie slave not his weirdest one?” Edd was laughing.

“We’re not talking about this!” Tom interrupted Matt before he could speak again, and the quiet air was full of peels of laughter.

“Oh, Tom, come on,” Tord began, unable to hide his grin. 

“Yeah. Nothing says ‘grave robbing’ quite like discussing the kinks of the dead,” Todd teased with such a casual tone that even Tom bit back a smirk.

“Okay, no, we are not diving down that rabbit hole,” Tord snickered, grabbing hold of Pat’s hand and stepping up to the gate. Tom, Matt, and Edd complained jokingly, and Todd was shaking his head.

Pat quirked a slightly rot touched brow, “Would a stiff-y joke be too on the nose?”

Tord choked on a laugh, and it seemed Pat opened Pandora's box. The rest of the way to the grave was filled with terrible puns, sex jokes and dead sneers. A few groaned at the bad jokes, but it seemed everyone found the situation paired with the awful teases to be a perfect combination for giggles and friendly shoves. 

Tord ended up leaning on Pat, unable to walk straight with a bloody cloth tied hand slapped over his mouth to keep down his gaffs of laughter. Pat helped him not trip, holding his shaking arm, and his smile became easier to show with every moment.

“Sure, but I’m telling you guys, it’s not gay if he’s dead.”

“That’s a shame-”

“Edd, Pat, oh my god, I love you, but I can’t breathe- We’re here,” Tord stated, lightly swatting at Pat’s arm as he stepped away, towards a stone building. He became somber, staring at the familiar thick doors.

“A crypt?” Todd questioned. 

Tord nodded, leaning his hands against the old, cold wood door and feeling icy stings in his split fingertips. 

“How rich was this guy?” Edd was obviously staring at the stone pillars at the front. 

Tord jiggled the handles a bit, before shoving. When it didn’t give, he pulled back and rammed his shoulder at the center of the double doors. They swung open with a horrible creak, and Tord stumbled. Only when the dust, and thick clouded smell flowed with the doors, did Tord finally speak.

“Pau came from old money- But his family wasn’t exactly nurturing, and they had been strained when Pau had died. They were only ever possessive of him after he passed, and had him buried in the family mausoleum. It was the most contact they had with him since they kicked him out of their house when he refused to follow his father’s footsteps,” Tord righted himself as he spoke, swaying a bit until he balanced himself on the thrown back doors. 

Inside was a narrowed hallway of cold walls in marble and name plates, a window of stain glass high above, and a cold stone floor. It felt freezing inside, barren and empty even if it was protected from the midnight breeze. Tord waved a slightly shaky hand for the men behind him to follow. 

“Lovely people,” Todd muttered, pulling his hood off.

Tord didn’t bother looking at names of people he never knew, just walking to the near end and reaching out an aching hand to touch the carved letters of his lover. He wasn’t sure exactly what to blame his head-rush on, but he leaned his heated forehead to the name, just like he had many times before. It eased the dizziness slightly.

Tom was the first to speak upon entering the small cold building, “Wait, if this guy’s in the wall, how are we going to get him out?”

“We could… pry it open? I mean, it’s just a cover, right?” Matt mused curiously, leaning against the opposite wall and not feeling the chill of the marble coated walls. 

Tord shuffled up to Edd, and wordlessly unzipped the bag as Edd stared at Matt for a moment.

“How do you know that?”

Matt shrugged, “I was supposed to be buried in a mausoleum too- my parents really wanted me to pick it out and everything- but I told them I wanted to be buried in the same cemetery as Tom.”

“Also, he’s not a moron,” Tom added, “Did you just think they dipped the coffin in marble or something?”

Edd seemed to scowl under his bandanna. He didn’t even look as Tord riffled through the bag under his arm. “No.”

“Holy shit, you did.”

“Guys, this is not helping,” Todd broke in calmly, looking thoughtfully at the marble carved marker.

“There’s a keyhole,” Pat changed the subject, pointing at the small steel lock at the corner with a stitched finger, “Maybe we can pick it?”

“Hm. Do any of us know how to pick a lock though?” 

All of them shook their heads. Tom crossed his arms over his chest, “We could probably break it off with the shovel?” 

Matt made a noise by sucking air through his teeth. “That doesn’t mean it will unlock, Tom-Tom. Then we could just be stuck here trying to break this open with a shovel. Which, honestly, I doubt would work well at all- Hold on, if we’re not digging, why did I bring the shovel anyway?”

“Loves, don’t worry,” Tord said, bringing out a heavy piece from the duffel bag, the cold metal stinging his fingers, “I already planned for this.” 

The rest of them stopped, and Todd made a surprised, uncomfortable sounding noise.

Pat was the one that tried asking, “Is that a crowbar?”

“Yes. Now, please step back.”

Matt and Todd offered mild complaints, but were guided back by Tom and Pat, so that Tord could stand before the name marker. 

With little hesitation, Tord reared back the heavy metal and swung it down on the pristine marble. It chipped with a solid sound, but didn’t crack the hard surface much. The bar was up and cracking back into the marble before Tord even took another breath, then he hit it again. The loud sharp connecting sounds between the metal and the marble filled the air for maybe a full five minutes. By the time Tord’s crowbar finally broke through, his arms and head were throbbing in time with his heart and he was sweating. With the clawed end of the crowbar, Tord pulled out the large uneven chunks of the broken marble and they clattered to the floor.

“This is probably the weirdest time to be reminded of how much I love you,” Edd wondered aloud humorously, and Tord let out a laugh.

“We use the shovel to pry open the plastic cover,” Tord huffed, stepping backwards a bit, and letting Matt step forward with a skeptical look. Sure enough, without the marble shutter, there was still a solid place of thick plastic preventing them from reaching the coffin.

“You did your research,” Matt complimented aloud. He used the shovel to scrape out the last marble bits that were in his way, and then carefully leveraged the edge of the spade into the corner where the plastic was set in stone. Tom walked around Tord to help Matt, and, as he and Matt tried to jimmy the cover out of socket, Tord felt cold hands grab his arms. He didn’t even notice himself faltering.

“You didn’t have to go that far, Tord. You’re breathing so hard,” Pat’s concerned voice rang in his ear, and Tord smirked.

“One of us could’ve done that for you, especially if you’re this tired,” Todd said, his fingers brushing some of Tord’s sweat touched hair back.

Tord huffed in a way that could be a chuckle and could be a gasp for air, playfully worming out of the hands holding him. “Guys, I’m fine. Ha, I fell in love with such worriers.” 

Just then the hard plastic cracked at the pressure and the shifting, and Matt took full hold of the shovel to pop it the rest of the way out. Tom looked over his shoulder, perhaps to tease or mock Tord, but his expression suddenly seemed concerned.

“Tord. Your nose is bleeding.”

Tord sniffed, standing up straighter, his mind seemingly blank. The rest of the men paused, Matt stopping just as he pulled out the plastic cover with a rot hardened hand. The hands on him turned Tord around, letting the other men see the streams of red dripping around his mouth and off his chin.

“What?”

In a second, Edd was digging through the bag under his arm, his voice coming out almost scolding as he restated, “You’ve got a bloody nose. Hold on-” 

Tord’s free hand came up and his uninjured fingers touched above his lips. Confused, he looked down at his hand, and stared dumbly at the glossy red dripping down his blistered fingers. He cursed and slapped the hand back over his nose, feeling the heat that he had mistaken as sweat before now touch his knuckles. The hand holding the crowbar tightened and he winced.

Todd helped tilt Tord’s head back, trying to lessen the flow or perhaps just prevent it from staining the floor.

“You pushed yourself too much.” Todd’s cold, thin and cracked hands felt like a relief on Tord’s sweaty jaw. 

“Your fingers are bleeding again too. Like all over the place, oh my god,” Tom said sharply, stepping next to Todd and reaching for Tord’s other hand, “You idiot, give me that stupid crowbar.”

The second Tom pried the crowbar from his hand, Tord became aware of the way how the cloths over his fingertips were soaked, dripping red onto the metal and onto the stone ground.

“Tord-!” Matt started, sounding panicked as he nearly dropped his shovel when trying to prop it up beside the exposed coffin, the tip of the spade hitting the ground with a sharp noise. Pat busied himself with picking up the lantern from where it sat on the floor.

In a blur of moments, Tord was fussed over with only minor complaints or attempts to brush it off. He was led to sit down on the opposite wall of Pau’s now open crypt, where he dealt with Edd holding cloths under his bleeding nose as Matt and Todd made sure that his head stayed tilted back. Tom messed with Tord’s throbbing fingers, where he cleaned them off quickly and redressed the deep slits with not only clean bandages, but also covered them with more small clothe ties. Pat was the one that went the extra mile and helped Tom continue to wrap up more of Tord’s blistered hands, even though Tord said it was overkill. Still the slight relief of his blisters being covered helped him catch his breath.

“You guys really are overreacting- a bloody nose is nothing to get this concerned about,” Tord tried not for the first time, almost laughing at how worried they all were over such a small thing but his voice was muffled from the way his nose was being covered, “I used to get bloody noses all the time as a child, this is nothing.”

“Bleeding everywhere is not nothing,” Pat answered sharply, but Tord just snorted. He placed his hands over the clothe under his nose, moving it just so.

“Bleeding from a few cuts and my nose is nothing to be worried about! Look, I think it already stopped-”

“That’s only because we had you sit down, dumb ass. If you had it your way, you’d still be up and bleeding all over the place while giving this rich stiff a fucking wake up call.” Tom had stepped away once he finished dressing Tord’s hands, and was now glaring from beside Pau’s exposed coffin.

“You know what I think? I think you revived us just so we could make sure you don’t get yourself killed. I know I had to talk you out of a bunch of stupid shit when we were dating,” Edd remarked, brushing Tord’s hand away to move the cloth himself. When he noticed that Tord actually seemed to be right, the blood had stopped coming at some point during the pushy minutes that the rest of them doted on him, Edd focused on wiping the last red streaks from his lips.

Tord chuckled, wincing a bit, “That’s probably true. You all brought out the best in me.”

“Sweet talk isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Pat stated, one of his stitched fingers flicking Tord’s forehead.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Matt said fondly.

Tord spent a few more moments convincing the lot of them to let him finish reviving Pau, being met with more complaints than he expected. It was only when he agreed to let them pull out the coffin that they seemed to be more accepting, especially after Tord took a deep breath and stated seriously that he had made up his mind to get everyone back, and when he said everyone, he meant everyone. This resulted in some flat stares from Edd, Tom, and Pat, and defeated sighs from Matt and Todd. They obviously knew not much could stand in his way.

Tom and Edd pulled Pau’s coffin from the wall, but Todd and Matt had to step in to help angle it properly so as not to just drop it on one of their feet. Pat stayed beside Tord where he had dragged the silly horn haired man over to the door, holding his arm in case Tord lost his footing and keeping a close eye on him. Figuratively.

As the four dealt with the coffin, Pat leaned down until his thin sickly colored lips brushed against Tord’s ear. Quietly, he said, “If this becomes too much, we could always get the others back some other day.”

Tord swallowed, but didn’t look away from the coffin. 

“I’ll be fine. A little exhaustion and bloodshed is worth having you all back tonight- I promise.”

Pat let out a breath, placing a quick kiss to Tord’s temple. Almost as if he knew Tord’s head was hurting right there.

“Let’s keep this little, star-shine. I’d hate if you just brought me back to watch you hurt yourself.”

Tord shivered, and threw a tired, sad smile at Pat. 

“It’ll be fine, pet.”

There was a heavy clang, making both Tord and Pat jump.

Matt nearly shouted, “TOM, you can’t just drop him!”

“It’s not like he can even feel it! He’s still dead.”

“So insensitive!” Edd cried dramatically. 

Todd laughed, struggling to lower the casket without it slipping. “The longer I’m alive, the more disrespect I see inflicted on the dead. This night is getting way too morbid for me.” 

Tord let out a snicker, lightly touching Pat’s stitched fingers in a comforting brush. Quickly, Tord stepped further into the mausoleum, up to the dark wood coffin that was slightly crooked on the ground between the other marble covered crypts. 

When Tord threw open the coffin, neither Edd or Pat seemed entirely thrown off, but Tom and Matt both winced and Todd once again backed up behind Edd.

Pau was more put together than all of them, his flesh enact and a dead pale gray shade, bruised with red tinged rot. The rot came like freckles of peeled skin, just spots and lines parting over dark rotten muscles, the skin discolored under the patches like morbid blush. His remaining skin seemed tight, showing off streaks of rot like wrinkles or tattooed lines. Messy, thinned dark hair fanned around his head. His lips were thin and a thick liquid was leaking out like drool, his head rolled back to show holes in his jaw and along his throat. The flatness at the chest and stomach let Tord see that his skin was more eaten away under, his organs liquefied and not holding the space out. Even his hands seemed mainly together, ignoring the spotted rot peeling the flesh at his knuckles and his fingernail-less fingertips. If not for the smell and the unnatural looseness and thinned skin, Pau could almost be seen as a person in makeup, asleep.

Edd made a bitter noise and muttered that it was unfair that the rich guy also got to look the most alive. 

Tord chuckled, stating that he didn’t mind much, and asked for the jar. As he went about spreading out the roots and herbs, Matt offered almost endearingly that Edd pulled off the whole skeleton look rather well. Edd scoffed, but didn’t really complain.

Pat took the jar, then the water bottle, and was the one that watched especially close when Tord slit open yet another fingertip with his coffin nail ring. When Tord tried to just wrap it up with cloth, Tom slapped the back of his hand. 

Tord tried to play it off, but he ended up sitting down before Pau’s coffin, Todd pulling out the candles while Tom grumpily wrapped up Tord’s bleeding digit with bandages. Tord teased him, and Edd joined in with good nature as he handed Tord his book. Tord insisted on lighting the candles himself, actually snatching up any helpful hands and kissing them before throwing them out of his way. Which resorted in calm complaints from Pat and Todd and Matt, but Tom almost pointedly placed thin pulled lips to Tord’s head before he stood out of the way. Edd just laughed.

The hands above lit candles and the chanting proved too much for Pat to be civil with, almost stepping forward or speaking up a few times as the rolling stinging words echoed in the cold room. But he was held back, ever so slightly calmed, by Matt grabbing his hand and smiling comfortingly, and another time by Tom just nudging his side and offering a cynical smirk. 

Tord’s body openly shuddered as he spoke, and his eyes burned, feeling like he was being blinded by the light coming from his own eyes. At the end of the chant, Tord gasped and wretched his hands back to him, feeling like they were burned and singed. He had tears in his eyes again and his mouth felt like it was full of needles.

There was no noise from Pau, but he was suddenly jolting up in his coffin, mouth agape and dripping pink and black liquid into his lap. His pit eyes seemed dull, seemed endless and flat under thinned brows. His hair was an absolute mess, falling into his face sharply when it used to fall with a bounce. 

“-Tord?” Pau rasped, voice broken and confused. Scared.

Forgetting about the lasting sting of his hands, Tord lowered them and smiled tearfully.

“Hello, Pau. How are you?”

Pau hesitated a moment, before moving one of his hands up to his ribs, holding it there.

“I’m… alive?”

Tord winced, and Todd had to stop Edd before he said anything, placing a hand over the bandanna. 

Still, the movement or the noise that Edd managed to make still caught Pau’s attention, and his head snapped up higher. He stared at the group behind Tord for a long minute, not saying anything. Tord threw a look over his shoulder and offered a sympathetic frown at Pau.

“Not alive.” Tord responded, slowly pushing up onto his knees. He didn’t care when the cold stone ground made his knees ache, and just moved to the coffin. “I’m sorry, sweets. There- There was a robbery at the store you went to, and they shot you. I’m so sorry, but you didn’t make it. The doctors said you would, but they were wrong. I knew they were going to be wrong. I’m so very sorry, Pau, I really am.”

Pau’s voice was breathless when he repeated, “Shot?”

His hands shook as he pulled at his shirt, ignoring the suit jacket, until he managed to undo the buttons and the old stiff fabric fell back to reveal a molted stomach. Gray- red flesh flattened stomach spotted with discolored rot, up to exposed peeking ribs. Dark old stitches from an autopsy pulled at the skin up to his chest in a distorted Y. Another long stitch line ran along the lowest of his ribs, rotten back with a jagged hole. A bullet wound.

Tord started at it, tears slipping from his aching eyes easily.

“They tried to operate. The doctors said the bullet shouldn’t have anywhere vital, it shouldn’t have ruptured all that it did. But luck wasn’t on your side, sweetheart. My- curse wasn’t.” Tord had to swallow passed a lump in his sore throat in order to get out the last sentence. 

Pau didn’t even touch the stitches, just stared uncomprehendingly.

“Your curse?” 

“Yes. Don’t you remember it? The same one that killed Pat and Matt and Tom and Todd and Edd- The one that kills everyone I love.” 

“Your curse… did… this?”

“It killed you, years ago- I. I’m the one that brought you back now. I-I brought you back to life, Pau, because I can’t- I couldn’t stand my curse taking you all from me.” Tord’s tone was edged with desperation. 

Pau looked again at the people behind Tord, seeming to make the connection. Pau let his shirt fall closed over his stitched up chest. He stated flatly, nervously, “I didn’t think your curse was real, Tord.”

Tord sniffed and nodded, fumbling around for the water bottle.

“That’s alright, I knew you didn’t. Doesn’t make up for it still getting you, does it?” 

“You brought me back to life? With… magic or?”

“Technically magic, yes. More so necromancy. I covered every other base I could before I came to this conclusion, sweets, I swear.” Tord’s voice broke, almost as raw as Pau’s, but he held out the bottle with a small smile. 

Pau ignored the water bottle, his dead hands quaking as they raised up slowly to frame Tord’s face. His body made soft creaks as he moved. Tord leaned into the roughed cold hands, feeling Pau’s spotted fingertips catch the loose tears. After a moment of quiet, Pau shifted closer until he could bury his face in Tord’s shoulder, hands clutching at Tord’s sides. 

“I. I don’t know how I feel about this,” Pau stated haltingly.

Tord instantly curled his arms over Pau’s back, ignoring the stiffness of the suit. “It’s okay! You don’t have to know right now. I know this is insane- I don’t expect you to be fine with it right away.”

“Damn right it’s insane.” Tom’s slight grumble didn’t even sway Pau’s hold on Tord, but it did gain Todd’s attention.

“Oh, hush. Not everyone is going to wake up from the dead ready to punch someone like you.”

“I feel like a live studio audience,” Edd whispered, earning a snort from Matt. 

Matt sounded scolding, “There is no such thing as a good reunion with you guys, is there?”

“Don’t loop me into this,” Pat said casually, “I had quite a good reunion with Tord after I shoved him in a hole.”

That earned stifled laughter from Tom and Edd, and a swat on the shoulder from Matt.

“By god, we’ve all gotten really morbid and we’ve only been un-dead for not even a full night,” Todd noted, almost sounding appalled, but also sarcastic.

“Guys,” Tord started loudly, tone stern but not cold, “Please don’t make dark jokes while Pau’s still coming to terms with it. He’s always been an anxious bear, I don’t want you guys to make him worry more.”

Matt, Todd, and Pat all muttered apologies, and Tom respectfully laughed under a hand before stepping away to the doorway of the mausoleum, dragging both Matt and Todd by their arms. Edd said nothing but he nodded to no one and went forward to put out the candles.

Tord focused on Pau, still curled up to his front. He lightly smoothed Pau’s hair back and held him close.

“How have you been?” Pau asked in a sort of lost voice, as if he didn’t know what else to say, and Tord pressed a kiss to Pau’s head. Tord could remember always being the one curled up to Pau, but it felt nice to have it reversed, sort of familiar.

“It’s been very difficult these passed years. I already lost so much by the time you died. I didn’t know if I could stand getting anyone else killed. Then I didn’t know if I could stand being alone. I tried to find solutions for the curse and I never got any results. I tried once more to be with others,” Tord spoke in a hallow tone, sounding more tired and sad with each word, “But that ended like everything else has, right after I let myself love them… It’s much better now, starting tonight. This black magic stuff, it’s the only thing I found that works. And I’m so grateful to get you all back. I’m so happy to see you, sweets. Just- so happy.”

Pau pulled back a bit, hands returning to Tord’s face. “Don’t cry… Tord. I’m happy to see you too. I really am-”

Tord kissed him, desperate and sad and relieved. Pau hesitated for maybe a moment, then he kissed back.

“-This is just really weird,” Pau started the second they broke apart, “Like really, really weird. I mean- I’m a zombie now? And-” 

Another kiss interrupted Pau’s worry.

“Tord, really? What did I say at Matt’s grave?” Todd complained, but was ignored. When Tord pulled back, he was laughing.

Tord kissed Pau again, rebellious at Todd’s complaint, Pau returning the pressure instantly and then pulling away to continue with, “You’re a witch? Also, you’re kissing me, and I think this counts as necrophilia-” before Tord broke him off with another peck on the thin lips.

“That’s probably true,” Pat agreed calmly, and Tom let out a bark of a laugh.

“You’re just messing with the balance of life and death, so that’s also probably really bad. I mean, there aren’t armies of the dead for a reason-” 

“Pau,” Tord finally used his words to stop him, a shaky laugh slipping out, “You have good concerns, but they can wait. There’s three other men I have to dig up and introduce you to before the sun rises. Also, you haven’t even drank this yet and your throat must be hurting you.”

Pau stopped, and glanced at the bottle Tord held out to him.

“What is that?” 

Matt was the one that announced happily from the entrance to the mausoleum, “It’s a potion!”

“It stops you from rotting,” Todd explained further, slipping off the backpack and walking it over to Tord.

Pau looked at them, then back at Tord, who nodded in agreement. With an unsure look, Pau took the bottle and slowly uncapped it before taking a drink. Then he drank the entire thing much quicker. Tord could see where the liquid seeped at the spots of rot on Pau’s cheeks, then soaked right into the flesh. When he finished drinking, Pau seemed much better and he spoke with the much smoother voice that Tord remembered.

“So those guys back there are who I think they are?” 

“Let me formally introduce you,” Tord smiled, digging through the backpack to find some clothing. With very casual, and warm words, Tord pointed out each of his lovers, and named them, recounting subjects that he had told Pau before. 

For a moment, Pau didn’t seem to know to get dressed, but he took the hint when Tom asked if Pau wanted to walk around in that tux forever. 

A large soft coat was slipped on and zipped, but Pau then hesitated, seemingly uncomfortable with getting up. Edd laughed and told him it would be alright to walk around without pants, like him, and Pau stared at his mainly bone legs spotted with green peeled flesh. Pau suddenly seemed interested in changing into the sweats Tord had brought him. Tom laughed, but Edd just shrugged casually.

Pau patted down his coat and pants and finally stepped free of his coffin, though he glanced back at it uncertainly. 

“What? Did you like being dead more?” Matt asked with a smile that would take out any bite. Pau shrugged, putting his rot touched hands self-consciously into his pockets.

“No. I was just wondering if my parents would be more upset that I’m about to disappear or that you guys just ruined really expensive marble.” 

Tord slipped a scarf about Pau’s rot spotted neck with a warm laugh, double looping it first and then giving Pau a quick kiss. Unlike Pat or Todd, Pau didn’t seem to want to complain. 

Pau hesitated at first when they left the mausoleum, looking up at the dark clouded sky. Tom and Edd jokingly asked if he was alive back there, and Pau snapped out of his thoughts to find Tord waiting just a step or two in front of him, eyes gleaming. Pau huffed out a sort of loose chuckle and slipped his hand together with Tord’s. He stuck very close to Tord’s side as they left.


	8. Fresh Rot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark, Eduardo, and Jon are all buried in the same cemetery- They need to be strategic about getting them, they're running out of time. Mark is encased in stone, it might take a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's getting closer to the end!!! (might go a day or so over the deadline- ha- but I'm trying my best to get it done b4)

One last graveyard, containing all three of Tord’s most recently loved, his most recently deceased. Tord drove with one hand holding Pau’s the entire time, and listened to casual conversation and jokes. Tord parked the car behind a row of trees before turning in his seat to address the guys in the back. He explained that they had to be careful this time- this graveyard was actually normally patrolled by groundskeepers- and they had to hurry before dawn started in a few hours. 

Tom snorted from where he was once again curled up to Matt’s side, their arms looped together. He asked if Tord even had a plan.

When Tord looked away, Todd groaned, “We’re cutting this incredibly close, Tord.”

Tord tightened his grip on Pau’s hand, a bit defensive as he admitted that he had done as much as he could get done within the past two months. He had rushed, but he mumbled about him just being tired of being alone for so long. Pau frowned. Edd laughed fondly, not bothered, and Pat let out a sigh.

“Tord, you lovely idiot,” Pat announced, not unkindly, “You’re lucky I already pushed you in a hole tonight, or I’d do that right now.”

Tord took no offense, smirking shyly as he explained how far he had gotten in means of planning. Which wasn’t entirely far at all.

They would first go to the top of the hill to get Mark, who was, like Pau, buried in a mausoleum. It would require actually using the hammers to break the standing stone encasing his casket if they couldn’t get the lid off, which would undoubtedly cause a lot of noise. Matt sweetly reminded Tord that he was going to let someone else shatter the casket this time with a flat stare that Tord didn’t argue with. 

After they woke Mark, they would collect Eduardo, then finally Jon, who were buried next to each other on the other side of the hill. Tord had no plan for preventing them from getting caught by the roaming groundskeeper, which was bad for multiple reasons that Pau muttered about until Tord kissed his hand to calm him.

Tom suggested pushing the keeper into an open grave, and Pat responded with a wince, saying that could be plan B. He wasn’t too fond of the idea of burying a person alive. Tom snapped that he said nothing about burying the guy, but Matt shushed him and agreed with Pat.

“It is a bit dangerous, Tom.”

“Do you guys want to get in or not?”

Todd ignored the slight challenge that Tom directed towards everyone, actually reaching out to pat Tom’s head in dismissal, like one would do with a puppy. Tom scowled, but he surprisingly didn’t complain. 

Todd mused that some of them could just distract the groundskeeper, make sure that they’d be too busy to notice any noises they would make. Some of them could do that while the rest of them ran up the hill with Tord to wake up Todd. It wasn’t a sure plan, but everyone agreed that it was better than just walking right in.

Tord hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with letting any of them out of his sight, but he earned comforting ruffling of his hair as the not-really-alive men in the back piled out of the car. Pau offered an unsure reassuring smile with his rotten blushed cheeks, and squeezed Tord’s hand before they both joined the others. 

It was spoken in low tones, and agreed upon that Edd, Tom, and Matt would be in charge of distractions, while Pau, Pat, and Todd helped Tord with the revival process. Pat and Todd packed up the duffel bag, grabbing shovels and large hammers that were somewhat slipped under the seats. Pau seemed unwilling to step too far away from Tord as Tord continued to brain storm with the other three about what they could use to distract the guard.

“We can scare him away by using our zombie looks! That way we can work our strengths,” Matt offered, pointing at the rot cracked half of his face.

“Yeah, that could work. We’ll just show him Edd’s legs,” Tom said almost playfully, but it was hard to tell, “No amount of makeup could make someone’s legs look like that. If that doesn’t work, showing him Edd’s face should do the trick.”

Edd scowled behind his bandanna. “He could just think it’s makeup. Then he’d just chase us for trespassing.” 

“-Which would still give Tord the opening to get inside,” Tom finished for him, smug with split gray skin. 

Edd seemed to think for a moment, holding up a skeletal finger as if he had an argument, but then he just let out a huff and admitted defeat with a shrug. 

Once everyone was ready, they crossed the dark space to where the cemetery started. The fence surrounding the place was tall and locked, spaced apart with large brick pillars. Inside, moonlight peeked from the clouds to touch dark yards of graves. 

The groundskeeper was nowhere in sight. They needed to change that.

Tom borrowed a hammer, bringing it down on the padlock with such a loud clang, that Edd joked that it should’ve woken the dead. The padlock broke off after two hits, Tom throwing it and the chain aside. The group rushed in, hiding behind a large bush just on the inside of the pillar holding up the large fence. Tord had to be dragged into the leaves by Pau, just spacing slightly from the clangs stinging his ears. 

Only Edd remained out, swinging the gate shut just in time for a shout to come from a bit down the path leading into the rows of headstones. 

The hidden group watched as Edd whirled at the call, noticing the flashlight and the sound of running feet. Edd paused hardly for a second before leaning back on the gate, bringing up one of his exposed bone legs, his skinless fingers dancing on his greened flesh knee. Like he was lifting up a skirt he wasn’t wearing to expose his ankle.

The groundskeeper seemed to stall a moment just as the flashlight beam fell on Edd like a spotlight. He was either caught off guard by the thinness and lack of flesh of his legs, or he was just confused by Edd’s pose.

“Edd, what are you doing?” Pat whispered viciously. Edd didn’t drop his odd stance, but he spoke softly in response.

“I’m showing him my leg? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

“Oh my god, not like that,” Matt gasped, a laugh choking his scolding as he struggled to keep his voice down.

“You’re supposed to scare him,” Tom hissed, “Show him your face or something! We need to get him out of here!”

Edd offered a one shoulder shrug, his hand moving from his knee to his bandanna. With a single finger, Edd pulled the cloth down almost teasingly to show off his bare flesh stained jaw and gaping holes in his cheeks, and his dark pits for eyes. His skeletal leg was still posed up, his bared toes pointed just so. 

The groundskeeper was unnerved, asking what Edd was doing.

Tord almost coughed a laugh, hand slapped to his mouth. He wasn’t the only one.

“Edd, stop flirting with him and do something! We don’t have time for this!” Pat was the only one able to keep a stern tone.

Edd let out a groan, slipping from his pose as he announced, “Alright, alright. No scandalous ankle flirting, I got it- I’ll do it your way.” 

With his jaw still exposed, Edd casually strolled away from the fence. The groundskeeper yelled at him to stop, backing up a step or two, but Edd suddenly bolted up to him, snatching his flashlight. Edd then ran, heading the opposite direction that Tord had pointed out before. The groundskeeper yelled for Edd to stop before rushing after him, chasing the dancing yellow beam. 

“Oh no, we’re going to have to help him,” Matt pushed up from the bush, chuckling. Matt hesitated a moment to give Tord a kiss to his forehead and a cheerfully soft, “Good luck, love” before he took off after the groundskeeper, nearly hitting a few gravestones.

Tom huffed, his face betraying how much he was enjoying this, and he waved a thin hand at the remaining four. “Hurry up and get that Mark guy. We’ll meet you at the bottom of the hill if we can shake the groundskeeper. If not, see you guys back at the car. Keep the coffin smashing quiet.”

Almost with a wink, Tom raced to follow Matt. 

“You’ve fallen in love with some really weird people,” Todd stated after a moment of quiet, standing from the bush with a bit of difficulty. Tord flashed a wide smile, letting Pat and Pau pull him to his feet.

“I only fall in love with the best.” 

“Alright, lover boy, enough of that.” Pat lightly brushed some leaves off Tord’s front.

“We need to move fast, but would you please tell us if it gets too much for you?” Todd mentioned, not for the first time since they left the car.

Tord didn’t miss a beat, taking a few steps forward into the lead with a call over his shoulder, “Just follow me, loves. Mark’s mausoleum is in the near center of the cemetery- Try not to trip.”

Then he stumbled over an uneven piece in the sidewalk.

“That’s what we should be telling you,” Pau grumbled with concern, grabbing Tord’s arm to steady him, and Tord shakily laughed. He promised that they would stick to the walkways. 

The walk to the mausoleum was more of a brisk jog with walking breaks between. Tord nearly fell a few times, and almost walked face first into a monument during a momentary dizzy spell, which he brushed off as just being tired when Pat grabbed his elbow and steered him for a few steps. 

Somewhere in the distance, they heard more shouting, and Todd laughed. 

After the walkways and halfway up the hill, Tord ended up hunching over with his hands on his knees, heaving and huffing that he was out of shape. His body was aching violently, making him feel exhausted and twitchy with pain. There was a very slight whine to each gasp of air Tord drew in.

Todd tried to speak his concern, but Tord was convincing. His shaky smile and slight gasp of ‘please’ had Todd sighing worriedly, but Todd agreed to go ahead to get the mausoleum open for them. Pau’s cold hands smoothed down Tord’s shoulders, wiping sweaty hair from Tord’s eyes.

Tord tried to laugh it off, but a coughing fit suddenly seized him. His hand slapped over his mouth as Tord’s caught breath rushed out in wheezing, painful sounding coughs. 

Pat stabbed his shovel into the ground, joining Pau in helping Tord stay standing.

Only when tears spiked his eyes, and Tord’s lungs felt like a single large heartbeat in his chest, did the coughing ease. 

With a sore voice, Tord tried to speak, pulling back his hand as he gasped for air, “I’m fine. I’m fine, loves. I’ve just got a stitch in my side, that’s all. Sorry-”

When he blinked open his teary eyes, he noticed that both Pat and Pau didn’t move, didn’t speak. Their hands were on his waist, on his arms. One of Pat’s hands was curled around Tord’s wrist, holding it in a way to show the palm. The bandages there were splattered with thick red in a small puddle. Tord felt a shiver run down his spine, not sure what to do.

“Tord,” Pau started in a voice that was softer than Tord expected, “… What’s wrong with you?”

“N- Nothing.” Tord swallowed, now distinctly aware of the copper taste in his mouth. 

“This is nothing, Tord.” Pat surprised him by sounding terrified when he spoke. 

Tord tried to yank back out of their hands, squeezing his bloody hand into a fist to hide the evidence, but he could feel it on his lips. He managed to break their holds, stumbling a bit.

“I’m fine,” Tord said sternly, nervously. His voice was raw, but he was able to breathe.

“No, you’re not. Something’s wrong, Tord.” Pat nearly snapped.

“No, I’m- I just bit my tongue, I swear.” 

“You’re terrible at lying, Tord,” Pau’s tone made his voice feel louder than the low volume it was at.

Tord flinched, “Please, trust me when I say that it’s not that bad… Please. I absolutely promise both of you, it’s fine. I’m exhausted, I’m an idiot. I bit my tongue and didn’t want to show you because this is how I know you would react-”

“We’re not doing this anymore,” Pat interrupted, voice turning cold.

“-What?”

“We’re not reviving any more of these guys tonight, it’s too much for you. We’ll come back another day after you’ve rested up.” 

“No-”

“Tord,” Pau tried, reaching for him.

“No. I’m getting everyone tonight, I have to,” Tord argued, but made no move to shove Pau off, “I’m fine! I just need you all. I can’t leave Mark, and Eduardo, and Jon here any longer. I won’t.”

“Tord, please. This is for your own good. You said it yourself, you’re exhausted. Pushing yourself to get it done in one night isn’t going to make a difference. You can get them later,” Pat said, his expression looking more guarded and uncomfortable than commanding.

“I’m fine, Pat, please-! Trust me. I’ve always been tired. I can only sleep when I get you all back, please. Please, Pau. Pat. Loves… I’ve planned to do this for so long, I always sat back while you all died, I can’t just leave them again- Not even for one night. Please,” Tord’s voice edged desperately.

Todd broke the tense moment by calling from the mausoleum, “Hey, I think I found Mark… Everything okay? Tord?”

Tord’s unstained hand reached out to touch Pat’s neck, guiding him closer so that he could speak to the both of them in a hushed voice. 

“Please- I promise it’ll be alright- We’re almost finished.” 

Pat and Pau stared at him a moment, looking torn and upset. 

It was Pau that let out a groan, turned his head and called up to Todd, “He’s fine. He just tripped again.”

Tord let out a breathless sigh of relief that ended with a shaky, “Thank you, sweets-” and Tord kissed Pau gratefully. Pau let out a soft moan, slipping from the kiss to bury his face in Tord’s sweaty neck, hugging him. Tord looked up at Pat, eyes sad.

Pat took a moment more before he looked away. “This is the last straw, Tord. I swear to God, if you end up getting any worse, I’m going to shove you back in a grave-” 

Tord yanked him into a kiss, whispering ‘thank you’ against Pat’s thin torn lips in such a happy voice that Pat just sighed. Pat pulled away quickly, taking his shovel and Tord’s hand, and starting up the rest of the hill without another word. Pau lingered at Tord’s other side, watching him with dead hands jumpy and ready to steady Tord if he faltered again. Which he didn’t.

Mark’s mausoleum was bigger than Pau’s had been, set with standing encased coffins rather than crypts. The space was large enough that it could probably fit all of them, if three of them weren’t busy running all over the graveyard. 

There were four stone caskets on their propped stands, two at the far back under the stone cut window, and two at the front- three of which were empty. 

Mark’s name was engraved on the one nearest to the door, the only one sealed, and smoothed so that it was hard to tell where the lid began.

Tord didn’t even complain when Pat pointed to one of the other caskets and demanded that Tord sit down. Tord slipped into a corner, pouting only for show for Todd who offered a smile when he passed. While Todd and Pat started testing the top of the smoothed stone, Pau helped Tord sit down to rest and wipe his hand clean of blood. 

“Just… tell me if you, if anything- bothers you?” Pau stumbled over his low words, seeming to have a hard time speaking, but Tord smiled affectionately at the worry, touching Pau’s rot sprinkled cheeks.

“Of course.”

Pau didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded and went to help Pat and Todd with the casket. 

The stone was too smoothed, so they ended up resorting to just breaking it open like Tord originally planned. Todd was the first one to bring the hammer down on the heavy stone, it jumping off bluntly with a loud noise. With a wince, Todd continued to crack down on the casket. While Todd worked near the head of the coffin, Pat tried smashing the foot of the coffin lid. The harsh connecting noises bounced off the dense walls around them, and though they worried about the sound they didn’t stop.

Once they broke off a good majority that was sanded to a smooth lip, Pau stepped up and rammed the crowbar between the parting that they exposed. With a bit of shifting, Pau managed to get it pried up, but it took all three of them to shove the heavy lid off. It met the floor with a sudden sound that made Tord flinch.

With Mark’s actual coffin (a rich, very fancy variety, which made Tord roll his eyes) now revealed, Tord was the one that instantly tried to open it. Which didn’t work. It was jammed, and Pau used the crowbar to leverage it until the lid came up with difficult shoves and a heavy dragging sound as the polished wood scrapped the stone box around it. Inside, Mark was quite a sight.

He didn’t so much have flesh as he did have exposed muscles, a dulling red color edged with black burns and deep rotten gashes along his cheeks to show the inside of his gaping jaw. The edges of burns seemed to make watercolor stains down his slightly ragged throat and chin. His hair was much shorter than Tord recalled, it having been burned and trimmed, but the thin dark blond still reached his cut eyebrows. The thin skin over his eye sockets was mainly scar tissue, slits of red rot crossed over and around them like morbid makeup. The way he was crumpled, his body flat and limp under his pressed suit, made Tord want to cry all over again. 

“It was a house explosion?” Pau asked softly, and Tord sniffed.

“Yes- The three of them died in the same one. There’s a reason all of them had closed casket funerals.” Tord lightly shook his head, clearing his throat. “I should be able to fix a majority of the superficial damage later. For now, let’s get him out of here, shall we?”

Pat and Pau hesitated long enough for Todd to take matters into his own hands, standing beside Tord and handing him the jar and the bottle when asked. Tord cut open another finger, Pau hissing in surprise and Pat and Todd just wincing. His blood on Mark’s face seemed much darker than his paled exposed muscle.

Tord set up his candles and book on the casket beside Mark, having to take a slow breath before starting. He ignored the way his own body felt like it was zapped with electricity the second he set his hands above the lit candles, mainly just hoping for a little less blood now. The words felt like they cut his mouth, left his tongue raw. His eyes brightened, blinded, he saw nothing but white between blinks. He barely managed to get the last word out before he finally realized that he was tilting back. 

Pat cursed loudly, stumbling to catch Tord as he fell back off the casket. Tord’s head felt full of cotton, so he didn’t say anything as he slumped into Pat’s arms. The weight of him brought them both back until Pat hit the wall a few feet away, supporting Tord’s upper body, his legs dragging on the lid and nearly knocking over his candles. 

“Tord, this is exactly what I was talking about. You’re exhausting yourself,” Pat huffed, “You almost passed out-”

Tord was unable to say anything before Mark jolted upright in his coffin, thinned blonde flying up in wisps. Tord blinked the last of the lasting blindness and light from his eyes, and he struggled to get up.

“M-Mark-” 

“Tord, careful,” Pau cautioned, watching Tord clumsily push back onto the coffin before he was already trying to step off. 

Mark moved almost comically slow, head turning to look at Tord’s call and the noise. The cuts in his neck leaked black onto his crumpled suit collar. Expressionless dark pits, almost reflectively dark, settled on Tord, and something about his face changed. The spotted burned tissue tightened the gashed rot around his eye sockets. Confusion.

Todd grabbed one of the candles Tord knocked over, his other hand grabbing Tord’s arm to get him to slow down. “You’re like a little kid, calm down. He’s not going anywhere.”

Tord allowed them to slow him, but only slightly and only because his legs still felt unstable. Mark was moving before either of the other two let Tord go. He hesitated just long enough to look at his hands and body, but then didn’t seem to care much beside a mild wince.

It was only when Mark climbed from his casket that Tord noticed that Mark was missing a leg. One of his pant legs was empty and useless under him seemingly from the knee down. A good portion of his leg had either not been found after the explosion, or it had been cut off after his body had been recovered due to there probably not being much to save in the first place. 

Todd and Pat let go of Tord, seemingly tempted to help Mark, but neither seemed to want to leave Tord’s side. 

Mark had to hold onto his casket when his only foot found the ground, slumping and nearly falling. He seemed to look down at himself for a second, as if betrayed, then he looked up at Tord. Mark shoved himself off the casket, just enough that he could reach Tord. Tord caught one of his hands, the other dead red rotten hand finding hold on the monument that Tord was sitting on. 

Tord tried to say something, but Mark shakily pushed himself up so that their lips met. 

Tord blinked in surprise, but instantly kissed back against burned smooth skin that was traced in gashes. Mark’s hand went from the monument to clawing at Tord’s shirt for a hold. It felt like breathing, pulling Mark in closer to just sink into him. Then the moment and the relief was gone, Mark inching back too quick, and suddenly Tord jolted when a sharp slap connected with his cheek. 

The sting and burn shocked Tord enough that his hold slipped on Mark, and Mark fell from the stand onto his back on the cold stone ground. The red and black rot touched hand that hit Tord was up in almost threat, Mark’s expression enraged from where he glared up from the floor.

And Mark’s first words after being dead for months were raw, “I can’t believe you. You’re an absolute moron, Tord.”

Tord was touching his aching cheek, seemingly in shock. Pau was reaching for his arm, probably trying to get a look and see if there was any real damage.

“Yes, I am,” Tord responded in a stunned sort of voice, blinking glossy eyes, “But what reason am I one now?”

Mark’s expression contorted, looking pained and angry.

“You came back. You should’ve stayed out,” Mark’s voice broke off dryly, oily black rot seeping from his eye sockets.

“W-wait, what are you talking about?”

“The house, you idiot! I thought you at least got out, but no! You came back, you died with us! You should’ve stayed out-” Mark snapped, but it almost sounded like a sob. Then Tord realized that Mark was crying. 

Tord was shaking as he slipped from the casket, slowly reaching out to Mark.

“Mark, wait- Please, you’re confused-” 

Mark kicked Tord hard, causing Tord to stumble more, lose his balance. Tord hit the ground on his knees and aching hands, and he let out a hiss of pain. There was a gasp to his voice.

“Confused,” Mark repeated, managing to glare despite the obvious hitch in his voice, “You’re damn right, I’m confused! Why the h-hell did you come back in?! Why couldn’t you stay outside? You didn’t have to die with us-”

“Mark, babe, I didn’t die,” Tord crawled closer to him, ignoring the bruises and the aching stabs that seemed to touch him down to his bones. Mark was shaking, black tears seeping into the burned cuts on his cheeks and chin. Tord reached out and touched Mark’s face with bandaged hands, feeling rough split skin as he tried to sooth, “Babe, I’m not dead. I didn’t get back to the house until it was already a smoldering pile of ash. I wish I had been inside too, but I wasn’t. You three were already dead when I got there.”

Mark stared at him with leaking eyes, expression twisted with pain and frustration.

“T-then why are you here- Where-?” 

“I brought you back, babe. I’m bringing you all back. After you and Eduardo and Jon died I realized I just couldn’t stand this anymore- this is the only thing I could do.”

For a moment, Mark seemed confused further. Then his eyes widened, and he slapped Tord once again, the noise echoing from the stone walls as Tord’s head spun slightly.

Todd made a very loud uncomfortable noise, like a gasp, and Pat and Pau winced. A tense moment passed like the beat of a dying heart.

“-Necromancy? You resorted to necromancy, lapin?” Mark’s voice was not cold, and his sliced lips were twitching at the corners. The same hand that hit Tord lightly reached up to curl along Tord’s jaw, and there was a choked bitter laugh to his next whispered words, “You absolute idiot…” 

And Tord was pulled into yet another kiss, a desperate sort of kiss. Tord kept his hands down, using them so that he didn’t fall over, and letting Mark lead. It was Pat to interrupted after a long moment.

“Tord, he hasn’t drank the potion yet,” Pat reminded sharply, and Mark pulled back.

“… Right,” Tord breathed, thoughts slow, and he sat back on his legs. 

Todd was the one that handed Tord the water bottle, and he stuck close even when Tord handed the bottle to Mark. Mark just stared at it a moment until Tord told him it would make his body stable. When he drank it down, the pink seemed to fill the cuts on his throat and soaked in like water in soil. There was a slight popping noise, and Mark wiped his mouth and eyes, none of the cuts straining or splitting open further like they had threatened to before.

After drinking, Mark spoke in a much smoother voice, though it was still a bit hitched like crying. He asked who was standing around Tord, something about his expression saying that he already knew. 

Tord gestured to each of them, stating names with fond, tired tones. Mark nodded, not looking at them so much as scanning them, taking note of their discolored skin and stitched body parts and missing eyes. It only took a second for the impression that Mark was going to hit Tord again to settle in the air, then Todd was grabbing Tord’s arm and dragging him up to his feet, out of hitting range.

When Tord noted that they were going to be getting Eduardo next, Mark looked unsure.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine to do that? It could be risky. I mean, isn’t necromancy dangerous? I definitely feel like I read that somewhere.”

“Dangerous?” Pau repeated, throwing a very uneasy look at Tord.

“Well, yeah. I studied a bit of black magic bullshit about a year or so ago for my thesis paper. That’s how I first met Tord, in this really dark book section. Necromancy was supposed to be one of the most harmful of magics or something like that,” Mark explained, but Tord waved him off with a single hand and a single nervous laugh.

“It’s honestly not as bad as it’s rumored to be,” Tord stated, turning his imploring eyes on each of his boyfriends, “A few side effects and it’s given a bad reputation all of a sudden. Trust me, I’ve looked into every little detail about this, and it’s not that terrible. A bit exhausting, but I assure you nothing bad will come of me waking up my last two beloved deceased. Besides, it would be very unfair to wake you but not Eduardo or Jon.”

That had Mark sitting up straighter, his excitement betraying his clear worry. In a handful of minutes, Mark was getting changed, and the supplies were packed up. 

Pau and Pat kept a close watch on Tord, Pau actually jumpy and inching towards him the entire time while Pat just seemed uncomfortable. Mark kept on his suit pants, refusing to struggle changing due to his lack of a good portion of his leg, but accepted the slightly snug purple turtle neck sweater that hid the savage slices on his throat. 

Todd agreed to carry him, but he made Mark promise not to slap Tord again- which made Mark bark a laugh but he agreed, and, if he had eyes, he would’ve rolled them. Down the hill, Pau held onto Tord’s arm while Pat walked behind them, making sure Tord wouldn’t fall. At the bottom, they were surprised to find Matt, Tom, and Edd waiting.

When Todd asked what happened to the groundskeeper, Matt answered, “Well, Edd kind of ran into a gravestone and fell. The guy got a good look at Edd, threatened to call the cops, and Tom kind of pushed him into an open grave.”

“Tom-!” Pat started, but Tom dismissed him.

“Hey, he’s not dead. He’s just trapped in a really deep hole.”

“That was supposed to be Plan B.”

“Whatever. He’s in a hole that way if you want to help him up.”

“Are you guys serious,” Mark asked curiously, and gained three new stares.

“Oh, so that’s dead boyfriend #7. A bit gooey, but still looks pretty nice for dying in an explosion. 7/10 not that bad,” Edd stated in a friendly tone, his bandanna once again on his face. Todd glanced at him.

“Have you been ranking us this whole time?”

Edd didn’t hesitate to answer, “Yup. Don’t worry, Toddy, you’re one of the highest ranks. In fact the lowest rank is only about a 5, which is honestly better than I was expecting for a bunch of dead guys.”

“I better not be the 5,” Tom grumbled.

“Hey, we’re burn twins!” Matt announced cheerfully, ignoring the slight argument beside him, and Mark quirked a severally burned and gashed eyebrow.

“Are we seriously just going to ignore that Tom pushed a guy into a grave?” Pau interrupted, and Tord snorted a tired laugh.

“I mean, he’s not the only one pushing people into graves,” Todd responded. Pat shrugged.

“At least Tord deserved it.”

Mark looked at Tord, “You were pushed into a grave?”

Tord paused a moment to lightly nuzzle Mark’s mangled cheek, “I’ll tell you about it on the way to get Eduardo.”


	9. Passive Aggressive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eduardo's never been much for crying. Tord has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm lateeee omg sorry   
> last chapter should be up b4 too long,,, maybeee :V
> 
> (no dying in a house explosion doesn't usually result in sick hairstyles but hear me out- *crying* eduardo with a mohawk)

It took maybe a few minutes to reach Eduardo’s grave, and by the time they reached it, Edd had already taken the story telling over from Tord, who had a breathless laugh. Tom and Todd occasionally jumped in, and the story of Tord getting pushed by Pat shifted to him getting dragged into Matt’s grave, and getting punched by Tom. The reminder of Tom getting his leg sewed back on made Mark laugh. 

Setting down the supplies, Tom snapped casually that Mark would react the same way when they sewed his leg back on, and Mark almost smugly admitted that he didn’t have a leg to sew back on and he still wasn’t complaining as much. Which made Tom frown, and Tord called to Mark that he would be getting a prosthetic later. Edd announced that Mark had to be pulling his leg, and he earned a multitude of groans and unamused chuckles.

Tord didn’t argue or complain when he was told to rest by Todd, and the others took up shovels. Tord was a bit clumsy when taking a seat in the grass before Eduardo’s plot, Pau helping him. Mark was deposited from Todd’s back to sit next to Tord, instantly leaning close to place one of his cold rough hands over Tord’s braced in the grass. Tord threw him a small smile.

Todd, Edd, and Matt focused on digging out Eduardo’s grave, while Tom and Pat scanned the nearby headstones for the other name Tord wanted. Upon finding it just a plot away, they started sinking their heavy spades into the dirt just to get things done ahead of time. 

As they dug, the conversation drifted to Mark, and he took over with a rather proud tone about Eduardo, and Jon. About how they were sweet and loving, understanding and fun. The mentions of Tord were warm, and often were about times Tord had done something stupid or cute or stupidly cute, which the others chimed in with ‘yeah, he does do that’ and ‘of course’s as if they all were comparing notes on the details they liked about Tord.

Tord found himself resting his head on Pau’s shoulder, listening to Mark boast, and the digging shovels, and cluttered thumps of dirt being hauled out of graves. Pau leaned his head on Tord’s, staring at the cloths adorning each of the fingers of the hand tangled with his. Tord’s fingers were throbbing, but he didn’t dare complain. Despite the deep chill that Tord felt, he was comfortable, hearing talking and chatter and just noise. 

So unlike all those nights he spent alone in quiet rooms.

After a bit, the others caught in with more stories, some not even including Tord. Just conversing like people in a club. Mark ended up shifting so that he could rest his head in Tord’s lap. 

Almost as a reflex, Pau’s free hand reached out to push Mark’s short blonde from slicking to the red rot slicing his brow in streaks. 

“Your hair is sticking to your cuts- are you sure you don’t want bandages? I could patch this up while we wait,” Pau offered tiredly, and Mark seemed caught off guard. Then he smirked.

“Pft- alright since it bothers you so much. Just my forehead though.”

“Really? Your chin is really cut up too-”

“I’m not letting you dress me up like a mummy. Just my forehead or let my hair get stuck in the cuts.” 

Tord snickered when Pau let out a huff, and Edd hooted from the graves, “Whoa, go for it! You get to touch his forehead- That’s like third base.”

“You’re not funny, Edd!” Pau called back, but the corner of his rot touched lips quirked. 

As Pau gathered up the duffel bag and started shifting through it for bandages, Tord drew his own attention down to the hand Mark had left in the grass, just bothered by the coursing cold touching his fingers, wondering if he had put his hand in a puddle by mistake. 

In the dim light, Tord wondered if he was just seeing things, but upon shifting his sore fingers and feeling the distinct crinkle, he realized that he wasn’t- the grass under his hand was a dead ugly brown, all in a messy outline of where his hand was. 

Shaking a bit, Tord brought up his offending hand slowly, glad that his men were distracted with casual play, and Mark was teasing Pau as Pau placed white wraps about Mark’s head. It was hard to tell in the dark, especially with all the slightly stained gauze on his fingers, but Tord knew that he wasn’t imagining the black lines staining the skin of his palm like tattooed veins. He was only able to glance at his other hand without drawing attention, but he noted that black was touching the skin there as well. 

“Tord, do you need to change the bandages again?” Pau asked suddenly, making Tord jump. With a nervous smile, Tord waved him off.

“No, no, I’m fine. I was just brushing off dirt.” 

Pau watched him a moment longer, but then turned his attention back to Mark, finishing the wrap about Mark’s forehead. 

Mark casually grabbed one of Tord’s hands that shook, and he kissed the fingers. Tord almost yanked back from him, but nothing happened and Tord let out a shaky breath that he hoped came out as thankful rather than just relieved. After Pau was done with Mark’s wrap, he returned to his spot beside Tord, taking up Tord’s unclaimed hand in his and Tord slowly relaxed again. He laid his head back on Pau’s shoulder, but his mind was on the dead grass and the odd pained pulse in his hands. Mentally, he noted that he needed to hurry with these last two rituals, that he was running out of time.

A bit after Tord’s breath had returned to normal, there was a harsh scrapping noise and Tom cursed, sounding annoyed but not angry. 

“Oi, Pau, right? Can you grab something for us?” Tom called, chest deep in Jon’s grave. Pau lifted his head from Tord’s.

“What do you need?”

“Hammers- Turns out Johnny’s parents went all out. There’s concrete a couple inches or maybe a foot thick that we need to break open. Could probably use your help too.”

Pau risked an unsure look at Tord, but then nodded. He kissed Tord’s head before slipping away and standing. “Alright.”

“He’s a bit of a worry wart, isn’t he,” Mark asked quietly as Pau stepped away with hammers in hand. Mark was still holding the hand from before, right next to his sliced lips. Tord smiled, very careful to keep his free hand on his lap.

“Yes. That’s why I love him,” Tord answered sincerely, focusing his glossed eyes on the white bandage on Mark’s forehead under his thin spikes of hair like a headband. 

“Oh? And why do you love the rest of us, then? I’m dying to know.”

“I will tell you only if you promise to not say another pun.” 

“Another pun, you say?” Edd nearly shouted from where he stood about shoulder deep in Eduardo’s grave.

“Edd, please.”

“Shush,” Mark stated loudly, playfully, “Tord’s gonna tell us what he loves about us~”

“Mark-”

“Flattery, you say!” Matt was the one that yelled this time, sounding excited with a large hammer in his hand, posed to crack down.

“Guys-”

“Go on,” Tom stated with a very cat like grin with thin pulled lips, “I, for one, would love to hear why you just had to have all of us back.”

Tord pouted with tired eyes, but he quickly let out a laugh when he saw all eyes (figuratively) on him above smiles and curious expressions. 

Tord delved into compliments, bringing up laughs and affection and attitude. How they made him feel. He even ended up trailing off into a few recollections of some dates or actions that made it clear to Tord that he had been doomed to fall in love with each of them. He got ranging responses from coos to returned compliments, and occasional scoffs or just embarrassed noises. Mark wouldn’t stop kissing his hand, which made Tord a bit nervous, but he didn’t complain.

By the time Todd, Edd, and Matt reached Eduardo’s coffin, almost all of them were either incredibly flattered or incredibly flustered, and, when Todd helped Tord up, Todd actually kissed him with paper thin pulled lips, not even muttering about it being gross. Matt also climbed out from the grave, but Edd stayed inside just so that Tord wouldn’t attempt to climb in as well. 

When Matt grabbed Tord’s hand, Matt gave him a gentle kiss to his temple with a soft whisper of, “You’re adorable even covered in mud and blood, darling.” And Tord breathed a sigh of relief, aching head soothed just slightly, before strolling over to the grave with as sure steps as he could manage. 

Mark complained about wanting to see Eduardo too, but Todd assured him that it would be much better to wait until Eduardo was awake. Tord agreed, and Mark let out a huff before leaning back in defeat.

Once Tord looked in, Edd threw a bandanna covered grin up at him and pulled open the coffin with a light huff. 

Eduardo was much like Mark, a great majority of his flesh a dead red, but he was stained with black rings and slices of scarred tissue. It spread out in blackened spots of rot against his throat and up his jaw. His muscle was a flat red, touched by molten black that dug deep enough to look like holes on his cheekbones and along his jaw to expose darkened bone, and up along uneven patches along the sides of his head. His lips were molded up into thin stuck streaks above oil rot touched teeth. His suit was stuck in places from where liquid had leaked and stuck and dried. His dark hair was a mess, the ends that had been burned hadn’t been cut off, leaving him with odd blackened spikes and an unusual curl where the strains shriveled from heat. 

“He almost looks like he’s got a Mohawk…” Matt noted, and Tord made a curious noise.

“I hope not- Eduardo was never a fan of Mohawks.”

“I always thought he would look good with one,” Mark commented from where he sat a bit away, and Tord laughed.

“Well, if he doesn’t like it, I’m very sure I can figure out a solution.” 

“We’ll put it to a vote when Jon’s awake. I’m sure he’ll agree with me.”

After spreading the roots, and herbs, Tord directed Edd to pour just enough of the pink liquid in Eduardo’s mouth to reach his back teeth. Once that was done, Matt helped Edd up. 

Tord sliced another finger open and allowed the dark blood to drip onto Eduardo’s face from where he stood above the coffin. Edd paused before he passed Tord, and nuzzled his face against Tord’s cheek from under his bandanna. Tord smiled at the affection, almost wanting to apologize. But he didn’t have time for it. 

His hand was quaking as Matt bandaged it for him, and Todd was already pulling out the candles. 

This is when Todd noticed the dead patches of grass, musing that the groundskeeper wasn’t doing as good of a job as they should be. Tord said nothing, but Mark made a remark that they just had to sit on the one section of dead ground in the cemetery, which made Edd snicker at the irony.

By this time, Tom, Pat, and Pau were busy hauling the last of the concrete out of Jon’s grave. They took a break to sit on the edge of the grave to watch Tord do the last of the ritual, almost in anticipation of something interesting or bad happening. 

Candles lit, Tord settled with his back to his lovers, and he hoped that none of the three at Jon’s grave could see the pained wince his face took well before he even moved his hands over the flames. 

The chant hurt his tongue, stabbed his teeth, made his jaw ache and throb in a headache that reached across his entire body. His hands twitched in pain, but he didn’t remove them from the burning singe that raced in his knuckles. Everything was black in his vision, but his eyes glowed and watered, he never blinked. His heart almost felt like it was constricting tighter and tighter. His body was unnervingly stiff.

The last word felt like it slit his tongue, the ritual over. 

There was a pained gasp from the grave, but Tord didn’t move. He didn’t drop his hands. He just stared off into the darkness above Eduardo’s grave, eyes bright and unfocused and wet. Tord was almost sure he wasn’t in his body anymore, but then Matt was touching his shoulder, lightly calling to him. Tord finally blinked, feeling hot thick tears in his eyes and he shook his head a bit. Everything was still shaded wrong from his dizzy spell, a red color.

“Ah, sorry. I spaced out for a moment there,” Tord announced with a forced cheerful tone, breaking from his stiff pose to place a hand on his head, trying to still the spin and throb.

“Does that always happen?” Mark questioned, voice unnerved, suspicious from where he sat a bit behind Tord. Todd wasn’t the only one to make an unsure noise, concerned and confused.

“No. It didn’t always stun him like this,” Todd stated.

“It’s been getting worse,” Pat added, sounding very uncomfortable.

Edd made a soft noise of agreement, seemingly uninterested in vocally responding. Perhaps he just didn’t want to ask, like he didn’t really want a response.

“If it’s been getting worse, then why have you guys been letting him do this more? It’s obviously draining him. This could get dangerous incredibly fast,” Mark was sharp, with a voice that suggested that the others were stupid for not seeing it as he did.

“I’m fine, loves-” Tord tried, but he didn’t even lift his head, and there was a groan to his voice. Matt was putting out the candles before Tord could burn himself.

“We know that,” Tom snapped coldly at Mark, ignoring Tord’s weak attempt to calm them, “But he’s made up his mind, and, in case you’ve forgotten, he’s fucking stubborn. Why don’t you try telling him to stop and see how that goes?”

“We already tried- I did. He’s not going to listen to us.” Pat continued in the same sort of tone, and Mark scoffed.

“So you pick his ass up and make him listen. Tord wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want unless he’s picked up by the back of his shirt like a child. It’s the only way to get him to see your point.” Mark stated bluntly.

Tom sneered, “There’s this thing called ‘listening to your fucking partner’, asshole. Treating him like a kid is only going to make his attitude worst, and, wow, what do you know? Sometimes his opinion is valid too so shut up about that whole bossy bullshit.”

“Guys, you’re not helping Tord by talking over him,” Todd sighed, placing a hand on his head to pinch the bridge of his nose that was no longer there. 

“Um, everyone?” Pau lightly interrupted, “This probably isn’t the best way to greet someone new. I mean, he’s already having to get out of his grave himself-”

That got Tord’s attention, his head finally picking up from his hand in time to see that, sure enough, mangled fingers were clawing into the grass outside the grave. 

Tord scrambled forward, managing to ignore the pain itching his bones into a throb just long enough to reach the grave, and place shaky hands out for Eduardo to grab. Which Eduardo didn’t do immediately, in fact he seemed to flinch. But, after a moment, the burned fingers slipped hesitantly about Tord’s wrist, and Tord helped pull him out.

The second Eduardo felt ground under him, his hands were practically yanked back from Tord. Tord felt tears drip from his chin as he pulled his own hands up, worried that he had hurt Eduardo. That his hands hurt and that was why Eduardo pulled back. That had to be the reason.

“-Eduardo? My star, are you hurt?” 

When Eduardo looked up, his eye sockets were dark and blended with the burns, and he seemed to be having a hard time seeing. His posture was stiff, defensive.

“Tord?” His voice was unsure, subdued. Tord nodded, not caring that he felt more hot tears leak from his eyes.

“Hey, Eddie… Sorry, I’m a bit late from my run to the store,” Tord muttered, voice soft and strained. 

Eduardo blinked, mangled brow furrowed, his burned hands looking ready to push, to hit. Like he didn’t know what to expect.

“-How- you’re not,” Eduardo choked with a dry throat, and Tord was shakily pushing the water bottle into his hands. Eduardo jolted.

“Drink this first- it will help.”

Eduardo didn’t take it.

“Help… with what?” Eduardo croaked dully, disoriented sounding. Tord tried again.

“Everything- I promise. My star, drink it, please.”

Eduardo stared at the bottle, probably not seeing much in the dim light, not moving. Tord couldn’t remember seeing Eduardo so hesitant. When he finally took the bottle, he seemed to be careful not to touch Tord at all and, after glancing at the bottle for a moment, Eduardo opened it and drank the liquid inside slowly. The holes at his throat glossed with liquid then seemed smaller as his flesh absorbed the potion. A bit of tension slipped from him as the potion set to work down to his bones. He crushed the empty bottle in his hand, watching his fingers move as if it was the first time he saw them. As if his vision was only now returning.

“… Are you dead too? I know I am- but you- you shouldn’t have been in the house when it-” 

“No, I’m not, Eddie. I didn’t make it home until after…”

“Then I shouldn’t be sitting here. We shouldn’t be talking,” Eduardo said, tone clipped. 

“No. I’m sorry- I. My curse just… I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t find any other way, so I-”

“-resorted to waking the dead. Like some sort of witch,” Eduardo finished for him.

Tord hesitated a moment before answering with a helpless, “Yes.”

Eduardo slowly shook his head, pulling back just a bit more from Tord.

“You stupid fucker,” It was hard to tell if he was angry or sad when he spoke, voice just the slightest bit guarded. Then, Eduardo looked up at Tord, expression almost scared. And he stopped. His eyes seemed to widen with a whispered, “W-wait- what the fuck?” just before he actually moved. In disbelief, Eduardo’s hand reached out to Tord’s face, but it stopped short and jumped back as if zapped before it even got close. His voice was almost broken when he asked, “Are- you crying… blood?”

Tord thought that everything suddenly felt a little colder, and he was the one that pulled back from Eduardo this time. His hands frantically came up to touch his cheeks, to wipe what he thought had been tears. When he saw streaks of crimson smearing the cloth, fresh and dark, Tord could think of nothing else to say. 

“Oh no-” Came out like a gasp, and Tord was suddenly very aware of the men behind him moving, questioning, sounding angry or terrified.

In a matter of seconds, Tord was surrounded, he didn’t have a chance to try and hide the dark red tears that came from his eyes. Tom reached him first, grabbed his hands, and nearly yanked Tord to face them. Tord was caught literally red handed. 

“What the fuck-!” Tom’s voice was strained. 

Tord almost didn’t want to look at any of them, knowing what they would see. But he did anyway, and each of them seemed shocked to their cold cores when they saw the messy streams of blood falling from Tord’s eyelashes.

“Tord-” Matt started with a gasp, hands covering his mouth, sounding as if he was about to cry. 

Edd said Tord’s name like it was a curse, seemingly frozen in surprise. 

“Oh my god,” Todd whispered, sounding horrified, his hands reaching out to grab the nearest person as if to prevent himself from fainting. Which was Edd, who didn’t even react to Todd clasping his arm in fear.

“Loves, please, don’t panic-” Tord tried, struggling to pull back his hands from Tom but Tom held fast.

“How the fuck are we not supposed to panic,” Tom snarled, “You’re bleeding from your eyes for fuck’s sake!”

Pat was enraged, stitched hands coming up to clasp the sides of his head as if he just didn’t know what to do, “I knew it! I knew something was wrong- I knew you were lying. God, Tord- You better not have brought me back to watch you fucking die!”

“It’s not that serious-!” 

“That’s bullshit-” 

Pat interrupted Tom’s sharp curse with a near shout. 

“You’ve looked more and more tired with every passing hour! You’ve bled from your nose and your fingers enough to leave puddles- You coughed up blood! And now you’re crying it- It’s just getting worse and you keep lying about it! Why can’t you just be honest with us?” 

Edd broke in with questions that got more frantic with each word, “Wait, hold on, he coughed up blood? You coughed up blood?! When did you cough up blood?!” 

Tord ducked his head against the questions, caught in a lie.

Pau answered instead, dully from where he stood behind Todd and Edd, expression blank, “It was back at Mark’s mausoleum. We stopped before we got up the hill and Tord coughed up blood.”

“Pau!” Tord tried to interrupt, his voice desperate. Pau just stared at him flatly.

“I’m not going to lie for you, Tord, not when you’ve been lying to me. This isn’t nothing, and they need to know.”

“Yeah? And when were you three planning on telling us then?” Tom’s voice was like a bark, sudden and angry and loud, finally letting go of Tord’s hands. He was standing, glaring at Tord, glaring at Pau and Pat and Todd. As if he couldn’t decide who to be angry at. 

Matt reached out to him, grabbing his hand. It was unclear if he was trying to give or receive comfort. Tom didn’t push him away, but he also didn’t lean into Matt’s touch. Tord tried wiping the offending red streaks from his face, while at the same time he knew the damage was done, he couldn’t ignore it.

None seemed to pay any mind to Matt’s panicked sort of chatter that he was muttering aloud, to himself or to Tom, clutching Tom’s arm without taking his gaze off Tord, “Oh my god, Tord. Darling, oh no. I knew I should’ve done something- Well I didn’t but I should have- I should’ve known-”

Todd frowned, “I didn’t know either…”

“Tord begged us not to tell you,” Pat admitted, purposely making sure that he was looking Tord directly in the eyes as he spoke, “He said it wasn’t going to get worse. He said he bit his tongue.”

“And you fucking believed him?” Mark surprised the lot of them, speaking up from where he still sat behind them. A few of them shifted, and Eduardo wasn’t the only one staring at him.

“What other choice did we have?” 

“You could tell us about him so we wouldn’t be left in the dark with him crying blood!”

“You weren’t even alive yet, genus,” Pat responded bluntly, and Mark shook his head as if that was the most moronic thing he had ever heard.

“Yeah, and I probably shouldn’t be now- Fucking look what it’s doing to him.”

“Look,” Edd interrupted the babble from the rest of the group, voice unstable, “We don’t even know what this is doing to him. How about you stop yelling at each other and ask him?”

“As if he’d tell the truth- we should just send him to the hospital now, before he does any more damage to himself,” Mark said, and his head inclined, obviously focusing just past Tord, on Eduardo.

Tord instantly opened his mouth to explain, but Todd stopped him sharply, “The truth, Tord. Please… tell us what’s happening to you. Don’t lie, we need to know if you’re hurting yourself to get us back.”

Tord blinked, red gloss, a bit thinner than before, touching his eyelashes and leaking at the corners of his eyes. He hesitated for a long, heavy moment, wiping some of the blood away with his wrist like clearing off dust.

When he spoke, his voice was stern, but nervous, “… It’s just a side effect of the ritual- It hurts. It makes me dizzy, and it makes me tired. I- If I revive more than maybe two or three people, then the side effects get stronger. Nose bleeds, coughing up some blood, cold spells, headaches. It’s just a sign that I’m pushing myself- not a sign that I’m actually hurt. It’s uncomfortable, painful even, but it’s nothing serious. It’s just a thing that prevents people from going crazy with the ritual and reviving an army.” 

“Nothing to do with bleeding unnaturally is just a fucking side effect. Don’t try and say this shit is fucking safe. You’re putting yourself at risk to get back the dead,” Eduardo responded after a brief moment, seemingly folded in on himself despite the harshness of his voice. Tord gave him a sincere look that was only slightly glazed.

“I’m not saying it’s safe. Of course it’s not,” Tord curled his shaking hands into fists, “Necromancy isn’t a game for me- you all aren’t a game. I’ve never once taken my actions lightly! I’ve done all this knowing it was going to hurt, knowing I would have side effects, but I didn’t care as long as I wasn’t alone anymore. I just- I wanted you all back with me. A bit of blood and soreness is worth it.”

“That’s not an excuse, Tord.” Todd remarked sounding pained.

Matt had one hand over the burnt half of his face, touching burns and molted skin like it was suddenly worse. “D-did you think we wouldn’t care? That we wouldn’t mind seeing you bleeding for us?”

“I knew you would care, that’s why I didn’t tell you. You would’ve stopped me. I tried hide the side effects from you all until they wore off, which they will, this is just a momentary thing. The side effects will be over once I finish- Once I wake Jon-”

“You really think we’re going to let you do this again?” Tom sounded disbelieving, shaking his head. “You’re crying blood, Tord. No fucking way are we going to let you make it even worse.”

“It won’t get worse,” Tord argued tearfully, earning frowns.

“That’s what you said before,” Pau reminded, uncertain. Tord winced.

“I wasn’t lying then either. This isn’t worse- it just looks bad. It’s all superficial!”

Pat raised thinned brows in challenge, “You’re saying that none of this is actually hurting you? That you’re not in pain?”

“-Er, well, yes. I’m in a bit of pain, but it’s not-”

“If you’re feeling pain then it isn’t worth it...” Matt stated slowly.

“It’s not serious- It just feels like a sting-!”

“A sting,” Todd restated, “that’s it? I find that hard to believe when you’ve been stumbling around all night. When you’ve been dizzy and grabbing your head. You’ve been looking paler and more tired as the night goes on- it’s not possible that it’s just a sting that makes you look like this… You’re bleeding from your eyes, Tord.”

“Please,” Tord started with a sad breath, but he was interrupted by Mark calling in an overtly tired, strained voice. As if he didn’t want to say any of the words he did.

“Tord. We’re dead. Curse or no curse, we each died while in love with you. You were in love with us… It may have been unfair, but do you really think you’re making up for it by making us watch you suffer- Do you think Jon is going to want to see you do this to yourself?” 

Tord hesitated a moment, and another bead of red slipped from his eye to the line of his lips. “I. I didn’t want you guys to see this- I honestly didn’t think of these side effects beyond knowing they were possible. I just knew- I could get you all back, and that this wouldn’t resort in my death, like my other option would have, so I thought it would be perfect… I don’t want to hurt you- any of you, I never have! I-I mean, I didn’t want to kill you with my curse either but…”

“Tord, that wasn’t your fault-” Pau broke in, sounding shocked that Tord still thought it was. 

Tord shook his head, ignoring the point.

“I- tried everything before I came to this decision, loves, I swear! Please, it will all be over once I wake up Jon. I promise- I promise with all my heart that after Jon’s awake, everything will be fine. Just let me get him. I can’t leave him- alone. Mark and Eduardo love him, I love him, we can’t just leave him, not even for a day. I can’t leave him! Please, I’ll be fine, it will all be fine after him, I promise.”

Instead of verbally responding, Edd slowly dropped to his knees in front of Tord. His mainly skeletal hands smoothed along Tord’s cheeks, catching red tears with stained bone. 

“Tord, we just don’t want to see you hurt.” 

Tord didn’t reach for him, didn’t lean into him. He just drew in a shaky breath and spoke in a sore voice. “I know, Edd, I know. But this is unavoidable… it’s not that bad. Seeing all of you again makes up for whatever pain I feel by thousands- and it will stop soon. This pain isn’t forever, it will fade once I wake up Jon- just let me get him. I promise that I’ll be tired, but I won’t bleed anymore.”

“I don’t know, Tord...” Edd stated helplessly, not knowing what else to say. He found himself looking up at the others, obviously asking for suggestions, asking for help. 

No one seemed to know either, meeting Edd’s stare with blank, twisted expressions that were either worried or frustrated. Mark let out a loud sigh when Edd glanced his way, arms crossed over his chest. He looked both annoyed and at a loss, sadness underlying the way he stared at Tord.

To Tord, he asked, “You promise the side effects will stop once you wake up Jon?” 

“Yes.” 

Another huff escaped at Tord’s sincere tone.

“Fine. Wake him up. But, I swear to god, if you’re lying and even your fingers start bleeding again then your ass is going to be locked in a hospital, and I’ll send you right back once you get out.” 

Surprisingly, none of them argued. They didn’t seem to have the energy to fight a person who was openly weeping for them, who had stood by their graves and was the one to dig them up. 

Tord let out a relieved shuddering sigh, slipping forward to bury his face in Edd’s shoulder.

“Thank you, loves. I promise that this will all be over soon, and it will be worth it.”

“It fucking better be,” Tom answered in a suddenly very soft voice. He tiredly brushed some of Tord’s hair back, before letting out his own deep breath and walking off, to finish digging up the last man. 

Matt leaned down to kiss Tord’s head, then quickly followed after Tom, as if he just didn’t know what else he could possibly offer. Todd ended up fetching some cloth to wipe Tord’s face clean with, and Pau and Pat stuck close to Tord, asking more questions. About the kind of pain Tord was feeling. About how bad it could get. About how bad he expected it to be, and why hide it at all. Which Tord answered as well as he was able, awkward and clear. 

As they interrogated Tord, Eduardo had long since stood from his grave, and made his way over to Mark. Eduardo hesitated once he reached him, and Mark simply offered a smile that was as tired as it was comforting. They spoke quietly to each other, about things Tord couldn’t hear, but he was relieved when Eduardo suddenly leaned down to scoop Mark into his arms, into a tight hug. 

Even if Eduardo's stare seemed a bit suspicious, like he knew that Tord was lying, Tord felt that perhaps everything would be alright.


	10. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's the last one. Perhaps it won't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter- sorry for being so late (this was supposed to be done b4 Halloween but what can u do?)
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

It took several more minutes for Tom and Matt to get the last of the concrete out of the way, and once they had, Tom barked a series of curses. Matt shouted for someone to bring them shovels and crowbars.

Jon’s casket was buried upside down, the lid facing the ground, and they either needed to flip it or break it open. 

That got Pat and Todd’s attention, both moving to take a look as if they thought Matt and Tom were joking. Pau busied himself with helping Tord stand on very unstable legs with his arms around Tord’s waist to take his weight without complaint. Edd lingered behind them, gathering up the candles and book carefully. 

Tord explained breathlessly, trying not to lean too much on Pau, “It’s so that in case he woke up as something ungodly and tried to dig his way out, he’d only dig deeper… Jon’s parents were very superstitious, so they took many precautions when burying him. Concrete, carvings, blessings, candles, buried upside down. I believe they even had coins put over his eyes- they enjoy covering all bases.” 

“They were paranoid.” Eduardo grunted, avoiding even looking at Tord as he carried Mark over to the grave as well. His burn ravaged chin rested on Mark’s shoulder, casually holding onto Mark like toddler. Mark didn’t seem to mind the hug like hold, relishing in it even. “They’re so worried about being wrong in any sort of belief, so they try all of them in this weird collage of the worst aspects of each. It was hell having dinner with any of them.”

Tom scoffed that they probably weren’t too paranoid considering that their son really was about to get revived by something less than holy. Which earned a sneer from Eduardo, and Mark laughed. With almost flourish, Mark introduced Eduardo to the men around him, as if the bitter response was a cue, a good sign of friendship. Mark didn’t remember a majority of their names, but he didn’t seem bothered when he was corrected. 

It took nearly everyone’s help, save Tord, Mark and Eduardo, to dig out enough space in the narrow grave and to flip the coffin, during which there was cursing, and muttering about this all better being worth it. 

Tord kept his mouth shut where he sat outside the grave, knees to his chest as he tried to hide the way he was twitching. His eyes were sore, and he felt sure that they were glowing again every few blinks but no one seemed to notice, too preoccupied with trying to leverage Jon’s coffin without slipping or losing the inches they gained. For some reason, despite the company and casual noise that he had missed, Tord found himself feeling more anxious than he had the entire night. Ready for a last performance, and afraid that the smallest thing could cause a halt.

Eduardo changed from his tux beside Tord, into a much cleaner long sleeved shirt and a thin coat with a deep hood that he used to hide the burned rot lacing up the back and sides of his head. Matt casually called that Eduardo could try wearing a beanie, that it would hide the burns better and would probably look very cute. Eduardo scoffed that Matt probably couldn’t see well without eyes, and that he’d rather not, but he didn’t sound too sharp. 

Eduardo also exchanged his suit pants for loose black ones, but he kept his shoes, muttering about how expensive they looked. He sourly mentioned that he was missing fingers (three; middle and ring finger of his right hand and his little finger on his left), and Tord tried a gentle answer that they must’ve been cut off after he was found in the ash of their house. 

For a brief moment, Eduardo simply glared at his own incomplete hands, and he startled Tord when he finally spoke to him directly. “…When did you get home?”

Tord’s aching hands played with the stones on his necklace, and he admitted that he had arrived maybe five minutes after the explosion. The police and ambulance and firetrucks were already there, and they immediately barred Tord from getting any closer than the front lawn before he could rush in. He had to be stopped by several officers before he was finally dragged away to an ambulance to be watched as the last of the smoldering wreckage was put out. 

“I believe it was at that exact moment that I decided to do all this,” Tord finished. He felt that he probably would cry if his eyes didn’t feel so sore and dry. If he didn’t worry that he’d start bleeding again. “I was finished with watching my curse take things from me, and I was ready to take back for once. Thus, necromancy… It’s silly that I decided on this, yes? But at least it’s working, unlike everything else I’ve tried.”

“You…. you’re an idiot.” Eduardo answered back tiredly, but his voice wasn’t cold. It sounded sad, irritated, but not cold. Still, he didn’t reach out for Tord even though they were sitting beside each other.

Mark grabbed one of Eduardo’s hands, curling burned fingers together as he offered both Eduardo and Tord a concerned look. Neither of them looked back.

Tord didn’t complain about Eduardo avoiding him, he understood. His clothing and body was coated in dirt and mud, his fingers were in stained bandages, and his eyelashes and cheeks were touched with drying blood. To embrace someone so obviously drenched in their crime was something Tord couldn’t ask Eduardo, let alone any of them, to do. He was lucky the others had been so willing before.

It was probably for the best anyway; if Eduardo had been welcoming and had hugged him and kissed him and comforted him then Tord probably wouldn’t be able to keep his secret much longer. Then he would be stopped for ‘his own good’ and Jon would be alone. Which Tord would never let happen. Not to any of them, never again.

It took long stressed moments for Jon’s coffin to finally be flipped, then a few more as Edd and Tom struggled to pull out the nails on the coffin lid. 

Tord was lost in thought so he at first didn’t react, but he blinked and laughed off concern when Pau lightly shook his shoulder. With a bit of help, Tord stood up to see as Tom pull open the coffin to reveal yet another explosion victim resting in a bed of thin rot soaked satin.

Jon could maybe pass as a person coated in makeup. The color of his flesh was molten from a very rotten dark pink to a peeled black that stretched tightly. Spots of red touched his cheeks and chin and throat, showing the muscle with dark molded edges. His hair was dark and short with curled darkened ends that stuck to the raw skin on his head. His suit was dark blue and stuck to him closely, a gleaming rosary looped around his throat with the cross falling low enough to touch his stomach. His body was limp and sprawled in the tight space from all the jostling of moving the coffin. He almost seemed to be normal with large smears of ash over his skin, spotty at worst.

Pau asked aloud why Jon seemed not to be as… damaged as Mark or Eduardo before anyone else got up the courage to. Even Tom seemed hesitant to ask, tired from digging and yelling.

Eduardo and Mark glanced at each other, unsure. 

Then, Mark mused that Jon had been sleeping between them when the house exploded, and it was likely that their bodies had shielded him from the brunt of it. 

Eduardo muttered about it apparently not being enough, considering that Jon was still dead. Which made all of them quiet down solemnly. Mark pressed his burn laced cheek against Eduardo’s shoulder. 

Tord said nothing. He tasted blood on his tongue. 

The herbs scattered a bit when Tord crumpled them in his fingers, the jar nearly slipping from his hand. Tom poured the water into Jon’s mouth, and nearly hit Eduardo with it when he threw the bottle from the coffin. Eduardo snarled at him to watch it, but the argument cut off right when Tord sliced open a ninth final fingertip, hardly hesitating to look at the skin there and the lines already climbing over the bumps of his skin like veins. Tord couldn’t help the shuddering breath he took at the stab that came from each finger. Four drops of dark blood touched and slipped at Jon’s darkened cheek like morbid tears.

When Pau reached to his hand to bandage it, Tord ignored him, quickly and messily wrapping cloth around the bleeding finger. Pau complained, backed up by Tom and Pat, but Tord just flashed a tight lipped smile, saying that the bleeding would stop in just a moment.

Tord swayed as he let Pau guide him back to sit down just a foot or two from Eduardo and Mark. Todd was more than a little hesitant when he placed out the candles, now touched with melted beads that had dried in fragile lines down the sides. Pat didn’t instantly let go of the book, his stitched hands straining from how tightly he gripped the spine. Neither seemed to miss the way Tord’s hands shook, but they found their complaints quieted by Tord gently shushing them as he took his items. Pat stepped back, looking unsure and torn but Todd didn’t move for a moment. 

Tord lightly pulled Todd’s lingering hand to his mouth where he pressed a cold kiss to Todd’s knuckles. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tord promised, voice not even managing to sound sure. 

After a second, Todd stepped away with a sigh, to stand next to Edd, who lightly nudged him in an almost friendly, affectionate way. 

It was impossible for Tord to ignore that all of them were watching him with varying worry and panic and helplessness, he could feel the stares from all sides besides the grave. 

Matt wasn’t the only one grumbling uncomfortably when Tord lit the candles with hands that felt like they were being pried open at the slits in the pads of his fingers.

Tord placed his hands over the flames, a foot away, and instantly it felt as if he had set the backs of his hands inside the fire. The pain almost caused him to choke, but he managed to stifle the noise before any of his surrounding men heard him. He barely managed to get a breath in before he started the chant, which surprised even him when it came out in a strong voice. 

Tord was blind from the second he opened his mouth, the gleam of his eyes making everything both very bright and very dark. The words sent an icy stab down his spine, through his chest and he couldn’t even flinch, his body frozen, locked in place by the pain scalding the backs of his hands straight to the bones. 

Only faintly did he realize that a subtle wind had picked up. 

Tord felt like he was being crushed, his chest constricting as if it were about to cave in on him and puncture his screaming lungs. Instead of feeling lighter like before, he felt heavier with each word slipping from his lips, everything pressing on him like lead weights. He was sure claws were raking down the insides on his arms, razor nails slicing into the skin of his cut fingertips and dragging through the flesh seemingly all the way to his shoulders. 

Only faintly did he feel himself shaking, a shiver seeping from his entire body and into the ground like a wave, like a screen cutting through him and taking something into the rustling grass. Tord’s mouth was full of sharpened ends digging into his tongue and gums and teeth. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, but he couldn’t feel it in his chest.

He was cold. He was trapped, crushed by the words and the power and his curse. Like he was dying. All of which he expected to feel. Still, the fact that he knew this was going to happen didn’t soften the pain even in the slightest. 

Only faintly did he hear someone calling his name, unsure who it was. He couldn’t tell because his ears were ringing.

Then it was over, the last word gasped into the air, sounding as pained as he tried not to show. He felt numbed, entirely empty, entirely gone. 

His body started to fall forward and his hands slapped onto the ground to catch himself. It worked for a second. 

Then it didn’t. 

He collapsed, no longer able to keep himself up, and everything in his mind went witheringly blank. 

Only faintly did he feel something grab him.

It wasn’t like dreaming. It wasn’t like thinking. It wasn’t like much that Tord could recall, except maybe those times when he had to be sedated by doctors and the lingering effects of the sedatives seeped like dregs in his brain. 

Tord couldn’t see or hear or feel anything. He felt gone. It could’ve been seconds, or minutes, or hours before Tord found himself slowly becoming aware again. For Tord, it was like days had passed with him in nothing but a stifled darkness where he both felt nor thought nothing. 

In truth, it was twenty or so minutes.

Tord could hear voices, sounding uneasy or panicked or angry or sad, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His head felt both empty and too full, so it was like just hearing the noise but not the words. Muffled through ears that were still ringing. 

Tord’s eyes ached, his eyelids weighing tons. It felt impossible to open them as if they were glued shut. They still felt like they were glowing, and he wondered if he was crying again. Very dully he could feel something touching his face, the warmth surprising. Comforting. 

When he managed to open his eyes, his vision was clouded with red gleams, everything blurry. It took a bit more time, along with very gentle touching under his eyes. Then he saw a face touched with dark burns and paled red flesh and eyes- eyes that were the dullest shade of blue, the whites a very dull gray instead of white. Even altered with death and eyes just a ghost of what they used to be, Tord knew him.

Jon.

“G… Guys! Oh thank-! I think- I think he’s awake! His eyes stopped glowing,” Jon nearly shouted, sounding ecstatic and relieved. To Tord, he spoke in a more gentle, pained voice, “Tord. Are you okay? Tord, honeybee, can you see me?”

Tord let out a breath, a sigh or a whine, it was hard to tell with how soft it was. 

“Hey- dove. You’re… you’re quite a sight- for sore eyes,” Tord let out a weak chuckle. He wanted to reach out, but his body felt heavy and hard to move.

Jon sniffed as if he had been crying, letting out a shaky sigh of relief, and he pulled Tord closer, burying his face against Tord’s collar bone. Tord only then realized that he had been resting in Jon’s lap, leaning on his chest. He couldn’t recall when he had been picked up. 

Tord felt no pains, maybe a bit of soreness, so he didn’t complain about the tight curl of arms around him. His head was the only argument his entire being offered, feeling dull and sluggish and ever so slightly achy near the nape of his neck, as if he had been hit there. 

Tord couldn’t make much sense out of the growing babble around him, knowing he was being spoken to, but he didn’t understand any of it. Shouts, insults, sighs and even groans, no matter the tone or what voice he recognized, none of the words sunk into his foggy thoughts. 

Perhaps he was doing it on purpose, only because he knew that if he heard the questions, the accusations, he would have to answer them.

The only voice he made himself hear was Jon’s, who pulled back from him after a moment to just speak in that soft, gentle tone that Tord last heard in dreams and as a message on his phone reminding him not to worry about dinner.

“They- they told me what you’ve been doing- what happened. Eddie and Mark helped me out of the- grave and told me everything… You’ve been asleep for a while, we were thinking about bringing you to the hospital- but Todd, I think, said that it would be too risky so we’ve just been waiting for you to come to on your own. Then you did- but your eyes- they were unfocused and- glowing and you wouldn’t answer any of us. You worried us sick, Tord. You looked- dead or possessed. You scared me to death.” Jon kissed his forehead, and Tord slowly absorbed the words, the meaning sinking in almost reluctantly. Like he didn’t want to hear or understand anything that was being said.

“I’m-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare say you’re okay,” It was Tom who cut off Tord’s strained voice, sounding horribly upset.

It took a lot of strength, but Tord managed to lift his head. It took just a second for Tord to realize that the surrounding area was brightening, the graveyard much lighter with the sky touched with a gray rather than a near black. Dawn was coming, the sun was slowly inching into the sky over the headstones. 

A few steps away, Tom was hugging himself, folded up in Matt’s arms, looking like he was crying, like he was furious. Like Matt was the only thing holding him together.

“Tom…”

“Shut up,” Tom snarled, his posture backing up to curl against Matt’s chest, Matt nearly burying his face in Tom’s hair, “I don’t want to hear anything that you have to say… Do you have any fucking idea how terrifying it was seeing you fucking drop like that?! You said you were going to be okay, not that you were going to pass out and become unresponsive and stop breathing- You fucking asshole-!”

Tom trailed off, biting on the insults as he leaned back against Matt. 

“We thought-” It was Pau that Tord heard next, with such a scared voice, sitting almost curled up in a ball against a headstone beside Tom and Matt. Todd was leaning against the same gravestone, one of his thin hands calmly dropped down onto Pau’s head, almost impulsively trying to sooth him as Pau spoke past a slight hitch, “-We- We thought you died for us, Tord. We thought you died bringing us back- I- we can’t-”

Todd’s voice broke in firmly, smoothing Pau’s wispy hair, “You scared us, Tord. You can’t just revive a bunch of people who love you and have them watch you pull this stupid witch shit- You just can’t. It’s not fair.” 

“Not to mention you left us with a bunch of anxious guys we don’t even know. Pat and Pau and Tom almost had panic attacks- and I didn’t even know zombies could have those.” Edd added, voice solid and guarded, and Tord glanced with hurting eyes. 

Edd was standing with Pat, where they both stood posed almost in mid-stride a few steps from Todd and Pau. Pat’s hair was a mess, as if he had been tugging at it, and Edd was holding both of his hands, as if he had tried to stop him from panicking. Grounding him.

Pat was breathing in slightly uneven huffs, looking like he was about to sink to the floor, but also like he was about to sprint at Tord, perhaps throttle him for freaking him out so badly. He settled for nearly barking in a somewhat choked, angry tone, “You liar! You’re such a fucking liar-!”

Edd muttered a light curse of “your stitches- holy sh- Pat, wait-” when Pat started to pull away from him, as if he was going to run, and switched clumsily from holding Pat’s hands to catching him around the waist. Pat didn’t even seem to have enough energy to fight, or maybe he just didn’t want to, and he let Edd grab him.

“Let him go. Tord deserves to get his ass kicked for pulling this on us,” Eduardo’s icy voice drew Tord’s glance from where he sat with his arms crossed, just on Tord’s other side. His hood was up and Mark was leaning against him with an arm over Eduardo’s shoulders. Both looked guarded and tired with burns lacing their expressions to make them look like hurt reminders of the curse that took them, the curse that led Tord to where he was now.

Edd said while trying to pick Pat up better, Pat not even struggling, just glaring, “Well, probably, but after what just happened we should make sure Tord’s really okay before-” 

“He’s not okay. I thought we already covered this when he passed out?” Mark interrupted, his tone clipped and bitter. Something about his narrowed expression was almost as bad as the outright sneer on Eduardo’s face.

“Then we probably shouldn’t kick his ass! Unless we want him to actually die-”

“At least then we’d actually know what’s happening, instead of being left in the goddamn dark.” Tom snapped, anger wild and unfocused. Matt murmured softly to Tom with his burn cracked lips against Tom’s head in an almost scared kiss. Whispering about it being alright. 

Tord took a hitched breath, tried to sit up better. Jon tried to hold onto him, to keep him from pitching over onto the ground. Onto now very dead grass. 

“I- I’ll tell you-” 

Pat spoke before anyone else could. “What? What will you tell us, Tord-? That nothing happened? That you’re perfectly fine even when you’ve been bleeding-!”

“I’ll tell you what I’ve done to myself! What- I… What I am now.” 

The cemetery became silent as if Tord’s desperate raw voice was a scream. 

Everyone froze, everyone flinched. Expressions of worry seemed to be slapped off, leaving just shock. Just confusion. The sun was rising higher, touching gray stones with pale light, exposing the open graves far behind where Jon was holding Tord. Where Jon was trying to get Tord to look back at him.

Jon’s voice shook, almost whispering as his gray touched eyes switched from Tord to Eduardo and Mark, as if they were in on some sort of joke. “Why- Why did you say it like that? Like you’re- Like something-” 

Todd was a statue. His voice was cold with a realized dread, and he was leaning on the gravestone behind him more for support. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Like you’re dead too.” Matt finished the thought that Todd nor Jon could, expression scared, half hidden in Tom’s hair. As if he couldn’t bare to look straight on. His grip on Tom seemed even tighter, now no longer just holding Tom together, but himself as well.

“You- No. Tord, no.” Pau almost spoke to himself, sort of pressing himself against the grave stone. Into Todd’s leg. Trying to back away.

Pat and Edd staggered as if the both of them had lost all ability to stand, Pat tripping and leaning against Edd as Edd seemed to hold the both of them up on instinct alone. Two rag dolls touched in rot and fear.

“You didn’t-” Edd threw out with a suddenly very hard voice despite the way he faulted, his voice for once sounding like it was on the verge of anger. 

Eduardo cut through the shock, through the disbelief as the others argued with themselves more than they did with Tord. He said what they thought, what they feared, with a tone so flat that it almost sounded like he was admitting defeat. 

“You’re dead. You died getting us back- You’re dead too, like us! You killed yourself, you fucking killed yourself!”

“… Technically, yes…” Tord admitted in a very small voice, eyes slowly taking in the shock of his men. 

Devastation, and confusion and fear and worry, and rage, and a sadness he himself remembered mirroring when he lost each of them one by one was now revealed without any sort of hesitation as the dawn touched the dead. In the brightening sky, he took in the rush of mourning with exposed rotten skin and spotted holes in their cheeks. Their pit eyes, their dead stares and burns and cuts and stripped bones. Their bright clothes that Tord had bought himself for them that stood out on their paled sickly colored flesh, but showed a reminder. Showed what he was trying to get again. What he had lost, and what he now had back.

Like he had ever since the night began, Tord continued, “But I’m not dead like you, loves. I’m a… severe step up from- being just a member of the undead. I’m- I am what most would call a lich.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Tom spoke each word through a gritted exposed jaw, as if it were the only way to keep his voice from breaking. “Is a lich?”

Tord glanced down for just a moment, and, with a bitten groan, he used aching hands to push up his sleeves sloppily, just up to his elbows. 

As he moved, he reported in a very calm, slightly hitched voice, “According to the research I’ve done, a lich is a being of the damned- basically, a dead sorcerer or witch. It is known mainly a creature of evil, either an embodiment of greed or risky power or stagnated death- however, all of this stems from the idea that a person who becomes a lich was actually looking for immortality, which wouldn’t be right in my case. Becoming a lich is more of a side effect for me, a result of basically using my mortality as payment for doing things no one is meant to do…”

Jon almost seemed to want to stop him, but his burn touched finger tips paused when Tord prompted his explanation by holding out both of his exposed arms for all to see, palms up. And Jon saw the lines. They all did. 

The bandages on the tips of his fingers, once fresh only hours ago, were soaked thoroughly by so much blood that they looked more black. But that wasn’t what Tord was showing them. 

From those sliced dripping fingers, over the creases of his palms and the flat of his wrists, and stretching out along the soft flesh of his inner arms, black veins printed clear unnatural roots under paled skin. They faded to gray and disappeared deeper, seemingly tracing his main veins that once pumped blood.

“W- When- Did you get more tattoos?” Jon asked in a breathy shuddering tone, as if he knew the question was ridiculous but he desperately posed it anyway. Tord offered a sad look, expression soft, guilty.

“These aren’t tattoos, dove- They’re a side effect of becoming a lich. One of a few other things, from what I read, though I’m not entirely sure to what lengths it goes,” Tord spoke clearly, sounding honest, maybe even interested, “These are meant to show that I’ve officially become a damned creature, and, apparently, a warning against touching.”

“A warning against touching? Why,” Matt sounded breathless, scared, voice just barely loud enough for Tord to hear.

Tord gestured with stained hands to the ground. Under him, around him and Jon and Eduardo and Mark, the grass that was once green and healthy was now flat and dead and browned in a large messy circle. The dawn break brightening sky made the sight so much more apparent than it would’ve been minutes ago, the dull coloring almost making it seem like a large black scar in the cemetery grounds. Tord shook his head, as if what he was saying sounded silly.

“I wasn’t expecting this, but I do recall this being a sign of a lich- bringing death with a single touch. Like a grim reaper of sorts… I suppose I’ll have to invest in gloves in the future, but that won’t be much of a concern for any of you. Even if I find a way to give an illusion of life back to you all, I can’t inflict death on men that have already died-”

“Tord, what the fuck have you done to yourself?” Mark asked in a breath, horror in his expression as he looked at the floor of dead and the black veins spreading under Tord’s skin.

Tord didn’t look up at the stares he knew he would see, the fear and worry. The betrayal at hurting himself. Instead, he kept his eyes on the black spider web thin veins seeping across the inside of his arms and hands, and the dead brown grass under him. The rising sun revealed the signs as clear as the red still staining his lashes. 

“I. I did the only thing I could think of. And, honestly, I- I’m happy. I didn’t care about my mortality, or soul or anything, so long as I could get the ones I love back… I don’t mind any of this- I mean, it was a bit more painful than I thought it would be, as well as a bit more, um, external, but I’m fine with it and it’s past now that I completed my rituals anyway. A few other side effects I can handle. They’re all worth it to have you all.”

No one spoke, absorbing his words, trying to understand what was being said. What happened, and what Tord had done. 

After a heavy moment of Tord just waiting, Jon was the first to react, the first to move. Slowly, Jon’s hand reached out, sickly pink on the knuckles and burned in uneven shapes, hovering just a second over the black lines on Tord’s arm. With a whimper to his voice, Jon touched his skin and pulled his hand closer to him. 

Jon didn’t dare put much pressure on them, as if he feared they would spread, and spoke quietly, but even so, everyone heard him, “Tord… this isn’t some sort of side effect… You’re dead.”

“So are you,” Tord answered, not arguing, his tone calm and factual. He shifted his own hand so that Jon’s palm touched his. Jon seemed to flinch and Tord noted that, surprisingly, Jon’s hand seemed warmer than his.

“That’s-” Pat started struggling against Edd again, but something about the way he moved made it seem like he was holding onto Edd’s arms, “That’s beside the point, Tord! We already died-”

“From my curse.” Tord finally lifted his head, and met eyes with the wide dark sockets. Pat struggled to argue.

“That’s different!” 

“No, it’s not. My curse killed you all because I loved you, and I brought you back and paid the price for the same reason.”

Matt spoke when Pat failed to come up with an answer, but all he could get out was a shaken accusation, “You- you killed yourself.”

“So? How is than any different from my curse killing me like it was going to eventually?”

“Your curse wouldn’t have killed you-” Edd tried in a short tone, but Tord sighed, as if he had heard this many times before.

“It would’ve killed anyone I let into my heart, and it already had. It would’ve made me alone and bitter and scared. It made me guilty for simply being human and loving like anyone else. If you think none of this would’ve killed me in the end, I’d have to disagree, love.” 

Tord’s straight-forward tone, his calm expression made it clear than any argument brought up was one that Tord himself had likely asked. They couldn’t surprise him, they couldn’t argue. They could be mad, they could be upset, they could mourn the loss of his mortality, his humanity, but they couldn’t do much else. 

Todd suddenly let out a deep, heart broken sounding sigh, sliding down the gravestone he had been leaning on until he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the still huddled up Pau. Todd placed a thin hand to his head, and let out a bitter remark, “God, this is all so morbid.”

That earned a few equally sour, yet slightly surprised chuckles from Mark, Pat, Tom and Matt. Pau seemed to instinctively hide his face in Todd’s shoulder, and Todd didn’t seem to notice. 

Both Tom and Matt ended their forced sounding laughs with curses, sounding tired and upset and defeated. As if they lost the reason to stand, together they slowly sank to sit on the ground, where dead grass touched alive green, and they seemed to shake a bit as they held each other and muttered repetitious swears. Mainly ‘fuck you, Tord’ and ‘shitty excuse for the love of our lives’.

Pat laughed a bit harder than anyone else, and leaned fully back against Edd, putting his stitched hands up to cover his face. Edd shifted to hold him better, but kept his attention on Tord even when Pat announced in a muffled, tearful sounding voice, “I fucking hate you, Tord. I hate you so much-”

“You’re one dead dumb ass,” Edd said, not even laughing, not even joking. Tord was sure by the way the bandanna was moved that Edd was offering him a very dull smirk, as if he wasn’t surprised in the most bitter ways. Edd’s tone was solemn, and he moved a bit more so that he was sort of holding Pat up and sort of hugging him as if on impulse to comfort. 

Tord expected this, the anger and the desperate sadness. 

But he was a bit caught off guard by Jon suddenly holding his hand harder and asking in a very soft whisper, “There’s no way to fix this?”

“No, dove. And I wouldn’t want to anyway- I meant for this to happen, and I’m beyond happy that I can be with you all, even if we’re technically dead. We can’t lose each other anymore.” Tord stated gently, and Jon let out a pained groan, a cleared pink liquid touching at the gray parts of his eyes where they had started to decay. Jon curled into Tord, tucking his head against Tord’s chest and throat. Where Tord’s heart no longer beat.

Tord placed an arm, ignoring the twinges of pain and the black veins marking him as damned, around Jon’s back. He placed a few soft kisses to Jon’s hair. 

After a moment of just holding Jon, Tord felt a warm hand touch his cheek. When he glanced at Mark and Eduardo, he noticed that dark liquid was streaming from Mark’s eyes and catching on his burned streaks and cuts. Mark was crying, a very upset twist to his slit and darkened lips. 

“I- you,” Mark struggled to speak, as if each word hurt him, his hand slipping to clasp at Tord’s sweater and bunch it in his shaking black laced fingers almost desperately, “Y- You’re a disaster of a person-”

Mark broke off, but didn’t look away, didn’t let go. As if he feared Tord would disappear if he blinked or loosened his grip. 

Tord offered a sad smile, and pressed his chilled lips to Mark’s quaking knuckles. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Mark sniffed and continued to weep into his own shoulder as he held onto Tord’s sweater. 

When Tord looked up with tired, pained eyes at Eduardo, Eduardo was already staring at him. He never stopped. Glaring, fixated on Tord like he was too angry to think of words or a response. One of his arms was around Mark’s waist, supporting him.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, Tord waiting for Eduardo to either hit him or yell or break down crying like Mark and Jon and Pat. He didn’t. 

With spots of burns stretching over his cheeks and chin and staining him in black and sickly red and green tinges where his skin peeled with rot, Eduardo spoke in a voice that was hard enough to hurt like a hit.

“You better not ever drop like you did tonight. Ever. No more fucking lying either. You’re going to tell us everything about this bullshit lich crap. Everything. No hiding anything, no white lies of fucking half truths. If I find out that you’re just going to break our hearts by dropping dead someday, then I swear to god- I’ll make you fucking wish you left me dead… Got that, Tord?”

Tord swallowed almost painfully at Eduardo’s arrangement, at his offer, his threat. It was touching in the weirdest way, this sort of promise, and only because it was from Eduardo.

“Of course. I know you will- I wouldn’t expect any less from my star.”

Eduardo reached out with an incomplete set of fingers, grabbing one of Tord’s bandaged dead hands, just hard enough to make Tord wince at the sudden bolts of pain that shocked him down to his bones. Both pain and the awareness that this was the first time Eduardo willing touched him since reviving made Tord jolt. And then, smoothly, Eduardo leaned to him, and placed his charred lips against Tord’s cold mouth. A very solid kiss full of pressure and anger and relief and determination that tasted just a bit like blood and a bit like ash. 

Tord almost wanted to cry again, just out of happiness. And perhaps a bit of exhaustion.

The bitter sneers around Tord continued, from insults and bitter cries to just sounds of mourning. Tord didn’t respond to them, knowing that they were hurting and that they had every right to. They didn’t want reason or answers, they knew what they needed to at the moment. They just needed to cry and comfort and express.

Around them the dawn was getting brighter, revealing open graves and dead grass and the deceased slowly accepting death and loss and life. They needed to leave soon, Tord knew they did, but he wanted to give them some time. Let them sob and let them laugh and let them cling and whine. As the living do, as he had done for them once upon a time. 

They would be gone before the beams of actual sun flitted on the morning fog, leaving empty coffins and dead grass and the quiet of the graves.

**Author's Note:**

> Pau and Pat used instead of Pau/l and Pat/ryk for obvious reasons. Based off the characters, not the voice actors or the actual people! Another possible title for this story was "Tord's bfs are fuckin dead".
> 
> This is originally being submitted over @whyareyoureyesblack (by myself) because she deserves some horror love stories for how much she inspires me! I'm only going to post here after I finish a bit more, but I plan on posting a few chapters per day kind of thing.


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